


The Sacrifices I Made

by ObliviateMeQuietly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Marauders, Marauders' Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 62,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2418527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviateMeQuietly/pseuds/ObliviateMeQuietly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Battle Of Hogwarts ends in disaster; Harry is killed by Voldemort, and the order flees into hiding. McGonagall gives Hermione a task that if completed will save the wizarding world, could save her friends. She is sent back in time to the Marauders era, and she is to defeat Voldemort before it is too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione’s blood pulsed loudly in her ears as she watched the scene before her, her wand gripped so tightly in her hands that her knuckles went white. Most of the death eaters had fled, but a few were still fighting in the corridors, or standing in the doorway to the great hall, watching the quarrel between Harry and Voldemort with cold eyes.  
Voldemort’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and Harry could feel the curse coming, feel it building inside the wand pointed at his face.  
“The true master if the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.”  
Blank shock showed on Voldemort’s face for a moment, but then it was gone.  
“But what does it matter?” He said softly. “Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: we duel on skill alone…and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy…”  
“But you’re too late,” said Harry. “You’ve missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him.”  
Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it. Everything apart from the voices of the two was silent. The Boy Who Lived and Lord Voldemort. It all came down to this very moment, the fate of their lives, the fate of the wizarding world, the fate of the entire planet. If Voldemort won, he’d take over the entire world. There would be nobody to stop him. The order was practically nonexistent, a lot of the members having been killed in the big battle.  
Hermione jumped as a cool hand wrapped around her elbow, and looked up to see that Kingsley had squeezed in between her and Ginny. Hermione strained her neck to see, and it seemed he had grabbed the young red-head’s arm too. Ron was silent on her other side, watching Harry tempt Voldemort.  
Kingsley said nothing as the two girls exchanged a quick glance. He didn’t even look at them. The dark skinned man stood tall beside Hermione’s average frame, but he had that familiar look of worry on his face, his shoulders slacking his usual confidence. His eyes were on a different woman; someone older, wiser. McGonagall nodded at Kingsley once, her eyes trailing to look at the young woman stood on his right hand side.  
Her eyes, too, were filled with worry. Even more so when she looked at Hermione. This made Hermione’s stomach twist nervously. The two just stared at each other for a moment, before they each turned back to the scene in the centre of the hall.  
“So it all comes down to this, doesn’t it?” whispered Harry. “Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does…I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”  
A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them, as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort’s was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he, too, yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco’s wand:  
“Avada Kerdavra!”  
“Expelliarmus!”  
The bang was like a cannon-blast and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided.  
Hermione watched in horror, her pulse sky rocketing as for a second they were all blinded, masked from the view of Harry and his arch nemeses as the deadly green ray of light met the red of Harry’s. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Draco’s wand flew high in the air, and Harry fell backwards towards the ground, his body limp.  
For a moment there was nothing, just the solemn silence of the hall. Then the screams started. On the other side of Kingsley, Ginny screamed loudly, her hand moving to cover her mouth.  
“No!” she sobbed loudly, trying to step forward to reach the body of her lost love.  
“Harry!” Hermione choked, her throat thick with the tears that were welling up in her eyes.  
Never once had she thought that this would happen, she had always believed in Harry, believed that he could beat his foe. But now he was gone. For the second time that night Hermione started to weep, the thought of her best friend being dead too much for her.  
The young woman turned, her eyes instantly finding those of her best friend. He reached for her, tears spilling over. She also outstretched her arms as the tears started to streamline down her face, seeking comfort from her friend.   
Wails and sobs were heard all around the room, accompanied by screams as the left over death eaters started to attack again.  
“R-Ron,” Hermione croaked as she grasped his hand, but the two were soon torn apart as Kingsley tugged on her arm, and Mr. Weasley was seen grabbing Ron by the shoulder, George on his other side. Kingsley and Mr. Weasley gave each other a sharp nod, and then Hermione felt something tugging at her naval. With a pop, they were gone.

It was a place Hermione had never been to before, another Order safe house, she presumed. For the first two days, they trudged around the house like ghosts, consciously flicking glances out the window every few minutes, expecting an army of death eaters to storm across the field which the house sat in, then attack them. Hermione already felt the world was changing, the air around her seemed thicker, darker. Without Harry, she felt there was no hope. There was nobody else out there who was capable of defeating Voldemort.  
For the first few hours, it had just been Kingsley, Ginny and Hermione. But soon after that the house began to fill with others, the Weasleys, Andromeda Tonks with her grandson. Teddy made nights bearable for Hermione. The darkness filled with his loud cries for hours, and Hermione lay awake staring at the ceiling as he did. She was strangely thankful for his presence. If he hadn’t been there, she would have felt afraid of the dark, for she knew that they others, like her, were waiting to be attacked.  
Every now and then people would glance at Hermione and Ron as they sat by the front window silently. They were waiting for the two of them to break, as Ginny had. But the two friends were trying to stay strong. Harry wouldn’t have wanted them to break down, to lose the fight in them.  
On the third day everyone sat around the conjoined kitchen and dining room, silently eating the lunch Mrs. Weasley had cooked up for all of them. They were about halfway through when the front door opened and a very frail and tired looking Professor McGonagall walked inside, holding a rather ratty looking handbag by her side.  
“Miss Granger, I need for you to follow me.” She said, looking at the young woman sitting at the bench beside Ron.   
Hermione looked up at the older woman and pushed her nest of brown curls from her face. Kingsley looked over at the two young adults sitting at the bench, before looking over at McGonagall and catching her eye. The two of them nodded, before McGonagall looked back to Hermione.  
“Why?” Ron asked as Hermione slipped from the stool. The question was going through all of their minds, but nobody except Ron would ever question Minerva McGonagall.  
“It’s quite important. And it is also private, between Miss Granger and myself.” The older woman stated in a casual tone, although her face showed that she meant business.  
Hermione stepped forward, sighing irritably as Ron wrapped his hand around her upper arm.  
“Mione, she could be an imposter.” He muttered to her, his eyes going to his fathers, searching his eyes.  
“She knew where the house was, Ronald. She would have been told by the secret keeper.” Hermione said. “And everyone else trusts her. So I do too.” She looked at her friend, giving him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.  
“I’ll be fine.” She assured him, before she walked off, following her old transfiguration professor down the hallway. They ended up in a small room on the second floor, which McGonagall made sure to sound proof and lock so nobody could hear, or disturb them.  
“Take a seat, Miss Granger.” The woman spoke to Hermione as she settled into the chair behind the desk.  
Hermione’s stomach flipped nervously, but she stepped forward and settled into the small but comfortable seat in front of the desk.  
“Have I done something wrong, Professor?” She asked a little anxiously.  
“Of course not, child, why would you think such a thing?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the girl, who squirmed a little in her seat.  
“Well, I just thought, you’ve bought me here all alone and you said it was private so-” Hermione flushed just a little at her rambling and fell silent.  
“You have done nothing wrong,” The professor assured her with a reassuring look, before she started rummaging through the bag beside her. She pulled out a small, and very beautiful wooden jewellery box. It looked very old, old enough to be Hermione’s grandmothers.  
McGonagall placed it on the desk in front of Hermione, saying nothing.  
“Not to be rude…” Hermione stated. “But, what is it for?”  
“You, dear,” McGonagall said simply. “Open it,”  
Hermione looked at her favourite Professor quizzically for a moment, but did as she was told, reaching forward and taking the box hesitantly. Her fingers skimmed over the pattern on the top of the lid, staring down at the box, before she opened the lid and looked inside. She almost dropped the lid in surprise.  
“A time turner?” her voice squeaked a little bit, showing her surprise. The older woman didn’t even blink.  
“My own time turner.” She said, her hands clasped on the desk.  
“I-but…what is it for?” Hermione’s eyes searched McGonagall’s as she repeated her words from before stupidly.  
“You, dear,” The Scottish woman repeated herself also, and only then did her face start to show sorrow.  
Hermione’s eyes widened a little bit, and she stared at the woman in front of her. With a small sigh, McGonagall leaned back and closed her eyes, pressing a hand to her forehead.  
“Albus always had a plan…” She started. “That if Harry was to fail, if he were to die, if we were to lose….that a certain smart, young woman would use that time turner, and go back in time, to his parents’ time at school, and she would defeat Voldemort before it could get to this point.”  
Hermione’s hands trembled slightly around the box as she listened to her speak.  
“But how do you know he meant me?” She asked feebly.  
The older woman smiled at this. “Who else could he mean, dear? It has always been you, you’ve been there for Harry, been through almost as much as he has. You are a very clever, strong young witch. And he was certain that you could do this.”  
Hermione stared down at the time turner in the box for a few minutes as she thought about what she had just heard. Go back in time? Defeat Voldemort? How was she to do that? She couldn’t. That had always been Harry’s fate, not hers.  
“What am I to do?” She asked at last, looking back up to the older woman.  
“You are to go back in time to James Potter’s third year at Hogwarts. Befriend him, and the others, but make sure that Pettigrew is never trusted. There is a potion in the box for you to take. An age decreasing potion, that way you will fall into their group.”  
Hermione nodded, her flingers clenching a little around the wooden box in her hands. Her gut twisted at the mention of Pettigrew. She would make sure he was never trusted, that he never betrayed James and Lily. That way, Harry would grow up being loved, having a proper family.  
“Find the Horcruxes, and when the time is right destroy them.”  
Hermione nodded again, breathing a small sigh. At least she knew where some of them were.  
“And then afterwards?” She questioned the woman sitting before her.  
McGonogall’s face cracked at that, her eyes growing sad.  
“Miss Granger…you of all people know that the time turner does not go forwards, only back.”  
Hermione closed her eyes, bowing her head. She would never be able to return. Never see Ron again, Ginny, George, or see young Teddy grow up.  
“You would be saving the world, Miss Granger. You would make sure that Harry doesn’t ever have to grow up feeling unwanted. He wouldn’t have the weight of the world thrust upon his shoulders. He would never have to face The Dark Lord again.”  
Hermione nodded weakly, glancing up at her mentor.  
“Afterwards, you will be able to have a normal life, to live like others do. It will make the world a happier place. You will save us all.”  
“I know.” Hermione said quietly, bobbing her head. “When do I leave?”  
“Now,” The Scottish woman said slowly. “I will accompany you to your place of departure. But after that…” She trailed off.  
After that Hermione would be on her own.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione looked around the alley way she stood in with Professor McGonagall, holding the small box to her chest. There was a dumpster in front of her, and behind her, were a few ladders, which lead up the wall to numerous windows.  
“The back of Grimmauld Place.” Professor McGonagall offered as she looked up at the building behind her, looking at the windows with her lips pursed.  
Hermione’s eyebrows knotted as she turned to look at the back of the building, glancing over at her Professor quizzically.  
“If I’m correct, that window there is Sirius’, and the one above it, Regulus’.” The older woman pointed as she spoke, before turning from the wall and looking at Hermione.  
“But, Professor, why are we here?” Hermione was puzzled. Why would she be bought here to go back in time.  
“I couldn’t find another secured spot,” Professor McGonagall confessed with an embarrassed smile.  
“Originally we were planning for you to go to the Potter Mansion before going back, but, as I found out yesterday that place is overrun by death eaters. “ She huffed a little bit.  
“This is the next best place,” She waved her hands at the building behind her, but her eyes stayed on the young woman in front of her.  
Hermione’s eyebrows pressed together as she stared at the windows that were apart of Sirius’ house.  
“How so?” She questioned, her expression showing disapproval. If she were going back in time, she did not want to be caught by Sirius’ mother, notorious for screaming the house down. She could only imagine her in real life.  
“You want to be in a place where someone from the wizarding world will find you. And I am certain that Sirius Black often climbed down that ladder, and spent some of his holidays down here.” McGonagall gestured around them to the alley way.  
“But why wouldn’t we go inside, then?”  
“We don’t want to risk Walburga or Orion seeing you appear out of thin air. You would be in a lot of trouble.” The older woman gave a soft sigh, before placing her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “I must leave. Kingsley is expecting me back to tell the order what you’re doing. Although I highly doubt that I will even make it in time before you alter the future.” She gave a small laugh, but it wasn’t a happy one.  
Hermione smiled sadly, and gave the woman a hesitant hug. “I suppose I’ll see you again…you just won’t know who I am,” She said softly.  
“Eventually, I might. Then you can tell me all about how I was your favorite teacher.” The Professor pulled away and smiled at the young girl. She stepped back, pulling out her wand.  
“Goodbye, Hermione.” She said softly.  
“Goodbye, Minerva.” Hermione breathed, backing up until she was standing against the wall. She watched the other woman dissaperate away with a crack, and Hermione closed her eyes, pressing herself against the wall. She stood there for a minute or two like that, hugging the jewellery box to her chest. She then slid down the wall, till she was sitting on the ground.  
“You can do this,” She breathed to herself as she opened the box. “For Harry, for Ron, for everyone you’ve ever known. You can change it, so they’ll never have to see a death eater. Never have to have someone they love die.”  
Her fingers dipped into the box, and she pulled out a small vial filled with brown, chucky liquid. It reminded her of polyjuice potion, in the way where it made her feel sick to her stomach, just looking at it. It looked more like a stew than a potion.  
“Bottoms up,” She muttered to herself as she popped off the cap and tilted her head back, pouring it into her mouth. She had to hold her hand over her mouth as she fought hard not to throw up. When she was sure she had it down, she set the vial on the ground beside her.  
Instantly she could feel her body start to tingle, and then she felt intense, stabbing pain in her bones as they started shrinking. She bit down on her fingers hard, stifling a cry of pain as it started. When it finished she gingerly lifted a hand to her face, touching her chubby thirteen year old cheeks, and her teeth that were slightly too long for her. Just when she had been starting to look average, they turned her back into an ugly duckling.  
With a sigh she picked up the time turner and placed it around her neck. In the bottom of the chest was two small pieces of parchment. One said nothing but 56 turns should do it. McGonagall must have charmed it for long distance travel. The other was a small note written in Dumbledore’s handwriting, to give to Dumbledore when she got to Hogwarts. She would need to enlist him for help on her mission  
With a deep breath, she started turning the time turner, her eyes glued to the grains of sand as they tumbled around in the time turner. One, two, three, four…  
It seemed to take forever to reach fifty six. Maybe it was just because her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears. When she reached 53 there was a loud crack, and Ron appeared at the end of the alley way.  
“Hermione! No!” He shouted as he sprinted down the alley way towards her.  
Hermione lifted her head as she turned the time turner for the 56th time, meeting Ron’s eyes.  
“No! Take it off!” He shouted frantically. But it was too late. Hermione’s body disappeared before his eyes.

 

Hermione looked around her as the alley around her stopped blurring, biting her lip. It didn’t look much different, except that instead of the dumpster being across the alleyway it was under the ladder that lead up the wall to Sirius and Regulus’ bedrooms. She figured that Sirius had pushed it there, seeing as there was a little bit of a distance from the bottom of the ladder till the ground. It would be easier to sit on the lid of the dumpster then slide off rather than jump straight from the bottom of the ladder to the ground.  
She pulled the time turner from around her neck and put it in the box, before shrinking it down to the side of the palm of her hand and putting it in her pocket. She frowned a little bit when she felt something drop on her head, and looked up at the sky. She couldn’t see anything clearly. It was getting dark. But then another dropped on her head, and more fell around her. It was starting to rain. She sighed to herself and huddled closer to the smelly dumpster, wrapping her arms around her knees.  
Within minutes she was shivering beside the dumpster, rain splattering her legs. Luckily, behind beside the dumpster and being so close to the wall of the building, she was mostly sheltered from the rain. But still, within ten minutes she was soaked. She looked up at the wall desperately, looking for the window. Would Sirius even show up that night? Was he away? Staying at the Potter’s, perhaps? She would have to seek shelter elsewhere if he didn’t turn up soon.  
Soon enough, 10 minutes later she heard a window open and shouting was heard echoing down the alleyway.  
“Piss off, you old hag!”  
“SIRIUS ORION BLACK YOU GET BACK DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT! DINNER WILL BE READY IN TEN MINUTES, AND I EXPECT YOU TO SET THE TABLE!”  
Hermione cringed hearing the voices. She definitely recognised one of them. Walburga’s voice sounded the same as when she’d heard the portrait version screaming the house down. And the other voice…well, Hermione could only assume that was Sirius.  
Sirius muttered a few choice words about his mother as he climbed out the window into the rain and started his way down the ladder towards the bottom. She merely stared at him as he jumped onto the dumpster, then slid off onto the ground of the alleyway.  
“Stupid witch,” Hermione heard him mutter as he turned towards where she was sitting, then he froze.  
Hermione sat there huddled up in a ball, her nest of curls sopping wet and stuck to her cheeks, and her wand clenched in her hands. As she took him in, she knew for sure that this was Sirius Black at 13 years old. His hair was dark and wavy and it fell to his shoulders uncut, his light eyes piercing as they stared at her. His cheeks still had a little puppy fat on them, but the rest of his body was skinny and seemed to be stretched. His body seemed far too long for his 13 year old face. Hermione had never known anyone at that age that was that tall. But, Sirius had been rather tall in the time she had known him as an adult, so she could only guess that he was going through a one of the many growing spurts to come.  
“Are you alright there?” He asked, bending down in front of Hermione and reaching to touch her hand.  
Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but she couldn’t speak through the chattering of her teeth.  
“Shit, you’re freezing,” He muttered to himself, standing up again and slipping out of his jacket. He offered it to her, then at second through placed it on top of the dumpster and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, you’re going to catch your death out here,” He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, and then looked at her.  
“If my mother asks, you’re pureblood, alright?” He stated as he started leading her out of the alley, and towards his front door. It was obvious that he couldn’t care less what her bloodstatus was. “Because, to be quite frank…she’d have you thrown out onto the street as soon as looking at you if you were anything otherwise.” He shook his head, sneering at his parents’ pureblood mania.  
That was more like the Sirius she had come to know. Hermione nodded as he led her around the block and straight to the front door, opening the door to Grimmauld place without knocking.  
“Kreacher! Run a bath!” he yelled as he shut the door behind him, then started leading Hermione down the corridor.  
“IT’S ALMOST DINNER TIME! YOU WILL NOT BE HAVING A BATH! YOU’LL BE GETTING YOUR UNGRATEFUL BACKSIDE DOWN TO THE KITCHEN THIS INSTANT!” Walburga Black could have been heard from the other side of the country. She marched up the stairs, and froze when she saw him holding Hermione close.  
“Who gave you the impression that we would be allowing you to have guests on this unpleasant evening?” She sniffed as she looked at the young girl up and down, turning her nose up at the sight of her.  
“Calm yourself, Walburga, look at the poor thing.” Orion Black strolled down the stairs and took one look at the girl, before calling for his house elf.  
“Kreacher! Run a bath!” He repeated his sons words, but this time the house elf actually listened. Water could be heard running upstairs.  
“She’s frozen, mother. And confused. She hasn’t spoken a word since I saw her. I think she must have hit her head on something.” Sirius stated, raising his chin as he looked his mother right in the eyes and lied to her face. “The least we could do is offer her a warm bath and something dry. And perhaps a place to stay for the night.”  
Walburga sneered a little bit, then screamed, “Kreacher!”  
Kreacher appeared beside his mistress with a loud crack. “Yes, Mistress?” He asked.  
“Take this girl up to the bathroom, and fetch her some dry clothes and a towel.” He narrowed her eyes, looking at her son as he raised his chin defiantly. “And prepare one of the spare bedrooms.” She said, before turning and sweeping back down to the kitchen.  
Orion followed her lead smoothly, and Sirius was forced to follow her as she screamed for him to come have dinner.  
Kreacher muttered, “Come, Kreacher has prepared a bath for Master Sirius’ friend,” as he walked up the stairs, and Hermione was forced to follow. This was not what she thought would happen.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione’s head snapped up as she heard the heavy door creak open across the room. She gave a loud sniff and wiped her nose on her jumper, not even bothered at how unattractive it was. Her fingers darted across her eyes and her cheeks, wanting to clear her tears, and when a head of shaggy hair and long legs wandered inside. Obviously Hermione had not been as quiet in her sobbing as she’d thought she had been. It had been, all in all, a very strange and upsetting night for her.  
“Here, these should do,” Walburga Black declared as she marched into the bathroom, her back straight and her head held high. It seemed that the woman had no shame, walking into the bathroom while the young girl stood completely naked whilst drying herself. Hermione stifled a little squeak as the woman strode inside, turning her back to hide herself. Walburga held up the pair of green satin pajamas she was permitting Hermione to borrow, sniffing in distaste. She didn’t often hand out her clothes for people to borrow, especially to homeless girls her least favourite son found on the street. But, as her husband had said multiple times over dinner whilst his wife and youngest son detested the girls presence, it would be impolite and rude of them to turn the girl away when they had a hot bath and warm bed for the girl.   
“Well, don’t just stand there!” Walburga snapped. Hermione was momentarily transported back to the first time she had heard that awful screeching in Grimmauld place. Merlin, had she gotten a fright when the portrait had started squawking insults at her. As she turned around, her arms slacking by her sides, she took in the woman’s appearance. She didn’t look much different to the panting that hung on the wall back in her timeline. She was tall and slender, with a pretty heart shaped face. Her cheekbones were prominent and rosy red; it seemed that even in her own family’s company she made an effort to look her best. Her nose was upturned just slightly, a trait that none of her sons had inherited. Her hair hung in waves to her shoulders, and it seemed her creases from screaming nonstop hadn’t begun to set into her face yet.   
Hermione ever so slowly began to dress in front of the woman when she realized that she wasn’t going to leave and she was expected to change in front of her. First she pulled in the trousers, which were far too loose for her around the waist. Being only thirteen, Hermione didn’t exactly have any curves to fill out the older woman’s clothes. When she was older she wasn’t much better, having only small breasts, but at least she had decent hips.   
Walburga sniffed as she bent to grab the loose pajama bottoms, giving the draw strings a rough tug before tying them tightly. “That should do,” She muttered.   
Hermione hurriedly pulled the pajama top on over her bare chest, and Walburga began to do the buttons up. It was far too big on the young girl, especially around the chest area. The older woman pulled back and looked at the girl for a moment, her arms crossed across her chest. “Kreacher will bring you up some dinner in a minute. Your bedroom is down the hall to the left.” She stated, before walking out the door, leaving Hermione alone.   
“Are you…okay?” Sirius asked a little awkwardly as he looked at the young girl curled up on her bed. He’d never heard a girl cry in his thirteen years, not his mother, or his cousins. He’d been raised to believe that Black’s, no matter their gender, did not cry. Sirius didn’t hold the same views as his parents, of course. He couldn’t give a flying fart about what they thought a Black should do. But he had never seen a woman cry in his life, so you can imagine his discomfort seeing Hermione with tears drizzling down her face.  
“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just…” Hermione gestured to the open book lying beside her. She had been reading when she’d fallen into another fit of sobs. It seemed she could never run out of tears. She’d cried herself to sleep that night, and had burst into a fit of tears again after waking up. She yearned for her mother and her father, who had still been obliviated and living in Australia when she had left. She yearned for Ron, for Ginny, for all her friends in the Order. For someone familiar. She longed for Harry. Oh, Harry…just the thought of him made Hermione’s eyes brim with tears again. Harry had given up everything for the rest of the wizarding world; he’d lost his life trying to save them all from the same horrid fate. But she’d make sure he never died in this time. She would save him.  
“You know…whatever happened to you, I want to help.” Sirius said as he sunk down onto the bed beside her. His voice was soft, sincere. Hermione had never heard him speak like that as an adult. But she was sure he would have when speaking of James and Lily, when speaking to Harry. Hermione looked at Sirius and wiped her eyes again, glancing up at him.  
“I don’t even know your name,” He stated matter-of-factly, and gave her a pointed look as he waited for it.  
“Hermione,” Hermione replied softly. “And you?”   
“Sirius Black,” The boy flashed her a smile full of perfectly straight pearly white teeth. Hermione thought of her own teeth which were slightly too long and bit her lip a little. “What’s your last name?” He asked her, lounging back on the bed. Hermione had been thinking the night earlier while she had been trying to sleep in the unfamiliar bedroom. She supposed that the bed path to take if someone questioned her of her past as to say that she didn’t remember. She remembered in history of magic that back when the war was just starting to brew that Death Eaters often raided houses and killed people, but they also obliviated the odd person and left them wandering around no memory of who they really were. And so, Hermione would play the confused war victim.  
“Um…I’m not actually sure...” She said slowly, glancing down at her hands, before looking back up at Sirius. The widening of his eyes confirmed that she had been successful in trying to portray a girl with amnesia.  
“How did you end up out the back yesterday? Do you remember?”  
Hermione gave a slow shake of her head, her eyes going back to her hands. “The first thing I remember I was sitting in the rain beside the dumpster. I don’t remember anything before that.” She said quietly.  
Sirius chewed on his lip a little bit. He never had been the nervous type. He was outgoing, confident, and very cocky for a thirteen year old. But he was nervous for the girl. If she had no recollection of how she ended up outside Grimmauld, and she didn’t know her last name…she could be a victim of the Death Eaters. Obviously she was muggleborn, he could tell from the moment he’d met her, in her jeans and knitted sweater. He’d been raised to spot that sort of thing from first glace. Then again, these days even pureblood children were starting to wear muggle attire. He supposed that was why his parents had believed him when he had delivered the news that she was a pureblood to his parents that night.  
If she had had her memory wiped…her family was probably dead. And if they were…she’d be thrown into an orphanage. That wasn’t any fair, being chucked in there. It was bad enough she’d lost her memory, but having to grow up in a place where she would get no love? No. He would not have it.  
“So…you don’t remember any family, do you?” He asked her. Again, Hermione slowly shook her head.  
“I don’t remember anybody.” She said glumly.  
Sirius’ face slumped into a sad frown. “It’ll be alright; maybe someone will come forward for you.” He tried to sound supportive, but his voice just sounded sad. “Or maybe…maybe you could stay here? I could convince my Dad to adopt you!”  
Hermione’s eyes widened at his words and she looked up at him sharply. Sirius laughed at her expression. He could tell exactly what she was thinking. “It’s not all bad here, you know. Mother’s…well mother’s a complete hag, as you probably already know. And Regulus is an idiot.” He scrunched his nose up at the mention of his two least favourite people. “Dad’s not around that often. He works a lot. He’s only home on weekends, and at evenings…and er…” He spotted the book she was reading. “If you like books we have a whole library!”  
Hermione just kind of stared at him. No. No way in merlin did she want to be a part of the Black family, to be forced into pureblood traditions. Sirius was kind enough, but the others? She’d only met them once in person, but she’d heard enough from Sirius in the future that she had already made up her mind.  
“That’s really sweet, but-”  
Sirius wasn’t even listening to her. “I should probably leave you to get dressed. Breakfast will be ready soon.” He stood up. “Just come down in what you had on yesterday, it should be dry by now.” He nodded towards the fireplace on the other side of the room.  
“And I’ll talk to Dad,” He gave Hermione a small smile, before backing towards the door. “I promise, it’s not all bad around here…you’ll see.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione tried her hardest not to gulp under the hard stare of the older woman sitting across from her. Walburga Black was truly terrifying in all forms, even more so when she was just glowering at you from across the table. Hermione much preferred it when she was a screaming portrait in her old timeline. She didn’t know what it was about her that made her so terrified of the woman. Maybe it was her hard eyes, the way they pierced her own gaze made it seem as if she was looking right into her soul, seeing her deepest and darkest secrets. Or maybe it was the way the woman resembled her niece. The portrait of her didn’t resemble her much, being as Walburga was much older then. But being a bit younger at the present time, the woman’s dark eyes, cold stare and nest of raven hair reminded Hermione of the woman who had tortured her on the cold floor of Malfoy Mannor. Bellatrix Black was one of the things Hermione feared the most. There hadn’t been a night when she’d woken up drenched in cold sweat since that dreadful night.  
“If you cannot remember family of any sort, or how you arrived at Grimmauld Place, how can you be so sure that you are a pureblood?” Walburga asked in an accusing tone, her obsidian eyes narrowed as she watched Hermione’s face for any signs of a lie.  
Hermione mentally gulped, her eyes rising to meet the other woman’s. “Well,” she began, trying to make her voice sound confident. “I do believe that it is something one would never forget, even under such horrible circumstances.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sirius’s lips twitch into a little smile. That was the only sign that let her know she had sounded truthful.  
Walburga sneered a little bit at Hermione, before her gaze lifted from the young girl and went to her husband, who was pursing his lips just a little bit in thought. He seemed to be one of those people who thought everything through before speaking. He was quite tame, really, especially compared to Walburga. But it was clear who held the authority in the family. Regulus and Walburga looked to the man for his opinion on everything, but it was clear that Sirius didn’t give any thought to what his father’s judgment was.  
Sirius didn’t look much like his parents, although he did inherit some obvious traits from his father. The two Black children seemed to have inherited their fathers grey eyes, and his long nose, but otherwise there was nothing about them that looked like Orion. Orion was quite a tall man – another trait which Sirius had seemed to inherit – with a long face and long crooked nose—it looked like it had been broken at some point in his life. He was quite skinny in the face, but when he stood you could see his belly sticking out over the top of his dress trousers, which his shirt was tucked into. His hair was a lighter brown and was cut short. It seemed that both Sirius and Regulus had inherited their mother’s black curls.  
“Well, I believe that is quite true,” He said slowly, his eyes glued with his wife’s. “I do not believe that it is remotely possible for anyone to forget their bloodstatus, even under such atrocious circumstances.”  
Walburga huffed, at her husband’s response, a rather uncanny impression of a horse. “Orion, you don’t know that. She could be lying! And no doubt that bastard child is playing along with it!” She hissed at him.  
“Walburga,” Orion barked her name, his calm composure breaking as he banged his fist on the table. His eyes burned into hers and his face morphed as his anger showed through. Obviously he had a bit of a temper. He leaned back in his chair and smoothed down his front, letting out a small breath.  
Walburga sat back in her seat, falling quiet at her husbands’ shouting. Her cheeks flamed red for a moment as she stared at him. She obviously didn’t like being shouted at, and was embarrassed about him having done so in front of the children.  
“She’s a child. Just a child. She can’t be any older than Sirius or Regulus.” He said in an undertone to her.  
Walburga pinched her lips together tightly and glanced over at Hermione. Hermione, by this time, was feeling incredibly awkward by their conversation.  
“She appeared on our doorstep, and it is only right that we take her to the ministry to see if anyone is looking for her.” Orion spoke slowly to his wife, but his words left a different taste in the air. It was obvious that he didn’t think anyone would come forward to claim the young girl sitting across from them at the table. After all, he had checked the Daily Prophet almost as soon as she arrived, and there was nobody in the missing persons section with her name or description.  
Walburga sniffed in distaste and pushed her porridge around in her breakfast bowl, looking down her nose at it. “I suppose it is our responsibility,” was all she said on the matter.  
“Then it’s settled. We’ll take her in after lunch.” He said with a nod, and started eating his breakfast again.  
“Dad?” Sirius spoke from beside Hermione, putting his spoon down once he was finished his porridge. He clearly hadn’t been bothered by the conversation before. Hermione had barely touched her breakfast. “Do you remember what we discussed earlier?” He raised his chin indignantly, his eyes meeting his fathers as Orion raised his head again.  
It took him a moment to respond, staring into his sons eyes, who never looked away. “I remember,” He spoke slowly, his eyes twitching to Hermione’s for an instant. “I will discuss it again later; with your mother.” He said simply, taking a sip from his water goblet.  
Eying his sons plates he waved his hand at them. “You are dismissed.” He then looked at Hermione. “As are you, if you are finished?” He asked her.  
Hermione gave a small nod, placing her spoon down. “Thank you for breakfast. It was lovely.” She murmured as she stood up, followed quickly by Sirius.

Walburga and Orion said nothing, just went about their business eating their own breakfast. Hermione took this as her cue to leave.

 

Hermione jumped slightly as she heard the voice pierced the silence of the house, looking up from the book she had been reading. She had found the book on the bedside table, and she figured no harm would come to her borrowing it. It had been a few hours since they’d come back from the ministry, and Walburga, Orion and Sirius had been at each other’s throats since the moment they’d stepped out of the fireplace. About what? About Hermione becoming a Black.  
“NO! I WILL NOT HAVE IT!” Walburga shrieked. Hermione could hear her voice loud and clear from upstairs as if she were standing right next to her, and she shrunk back a little against the headboard of her bed, biting her lip. She reminded her so much of Bellatrix in the moment, the way she screeched at her husband upstairs. Hermione already knew that the women had no shame, from the bathroom incident the night before. But in that moment Hermione knew that Walburga Black was almost as terrifying as Bellatrix.  
“I DO NOT WISH TO HAVE HER IN MY HOUSE! I DETEST IT! SHE COULD BE FILTHY! SHE WAS FOUND IN THE STREET!”  
“SHE HAS NOWHERE ELSE TO GO, WALBURGA! SHE’S A CHILD; SHE BARELY LOOKS TO BE SIRIUS’ AGE!”  
Hermione took it back. The only thing more terrifying that Walburga was Orion. His deep voice thundered through the house and Hermione was sure she felt the floor and the walls shake.  
“I DON’T CARE! I WILL NOT HAVE REGULUS GROWING UP AROUND HER WHEN SHE COULD BE SCUM!” Walburga screamed back at her husband.  
The argument seemed to go in forever, the two screaming at each other. Surely one would give into the other soon? It seemed that Sirius had learned his wide range of vocabulary from his mother, as every second word that escaped from her mouth seemed to be some kind of curse word.  
Hermione jumped when the door across the room banged open, expecting Walburga or Orion to stomp into the room. It sounded like they were right outside the room, from how loud they were shouting. But it was only Sirius, and he was carrying a trunk behind him.  
“No time to talk. Just come on,” He waved a hand at Hermione. “It’s best to leave when they’re screaming at each other. That way they can’t stop us. It’s not like they care, anyway.” He rolled his eyes.  
“Um…where are we going?” Hermione asked quietly as she stood from her spot on the bed and strode over to him.  
“My mate’s house.” He stated with a small shrug, turning on his heel and marching down the stairs, Hermione close on his heels. “Term starts in a week. And I’d rather be at Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s for the rest of the week anyway, that way me and James get to go to the train stations together.” He walked into his mother parlour on the landing and bent to pick up the pot of floo powder by the fireplace.  
Hermione tried her hardest to look oblivious to what he was talking about as she stood beside him, but him speaking about Hogwarts starting made her heart jump. Would she ever get to go back there? The thought of being back at Hogwarts made her heart swell with sadness- what would it be like without Harry and Ron. Sirius caught her confused look and gave a small smile. “Hogwarts is a school.” He explained, shoving his trunk in the fireplace before clambering in beside it.  
“Well, come on then.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the fireplace beside him. It was cramped, but Sirius wasn’t going to leave her behind, and he had no idea if she even knew how to floo.  
“Potter Mansion!” He cried loudly as he threw the floo powder to the floor. They were infulged in green flames and then they were gone from Grimmauld place.

Hermione and Sirius fell on a heap on the floor, coughing and spluttering after their fall from the fireplace. Hermione didn’t like floo traveling at all, she much preferred apperation, but that wasn’t possible while she was underage. Almost as soon as they hit the floor, footsteps thundered above them.  
“Oi! You’re dirtying my mother’s carpet!” Hermione looked up through her nest of brown curls and gaped at what she saw. It was almost the splitting image of Harry, except his nose was slightly longer, and his glasses were rectangle, not round. He looked so similar to her best friend that she opened her mouth to crow his name in delight, but she closed it abruptly when she realized it wasn’t him.  
Sirius got up from the floor and laughed happily, throwing his arms around the other boy.  
“So you got away from the monsters, eh?” James laughed and hugged his friend tightly, and then pulled away from him. His eyes found Hermione lying on a heap on the floor and he looked at Sirius quizzically.  
“I don’t think mum would think it very appropriate that you bought your latest snog buddy along.”  
Sirius rolled his eyes and bent to help Hermione up.  
“James, Hermione, Hermione, James.” He introduced quickly, brushing a finger over Hermione’s cheek without any thought, wiping off some soot from her skin.  
“And who is Hermione, exactly?” James asked, although he did give her a polite nod in greeting. Hermione stood awkwardly with her arms around herself.  
“Hermione is a girl in desperate need of a place to stay. Mum wanted to chuck her in an orphanage.” He scoffed at what his mother had wanted to do and shook his head.  
“It’s ridiculous, really. It’s bad enough that she’s lost her memories! She needs a loving home, not a nunnery.” He looked over at Hermione.  
“Don’t be scared. Mrs. Potter’s an angel, she’s sure to look after you until we can find you a place to stay.” He said, placing an arm around her shoulder. She looked frightened, but really she was just in awe over how much James looked like Harry.  
“Plus, she’s the best cook!” Sirius grinned and started to lead her from the room. Hermione merely nodded, still staring at James. Merlin, she missed Harry.


	5. Chapter 5

“I can’t believe that woman. She’s absolutely horrid,” Dorea Potter muttered as her hands worked on Hermione’s wet hair, pulling it into a French braid at the back of her head. Hermione had been sitting silently the whole time that she had been doing her hair- which was a long time, as Hermione had a lot of hair- and she had discovered that like Walburga, Dorea was the one out of her and her husband that did most of the talking, and was very open about everything. She’d just about talked her ear off about all sorts of things, but she seemed to mostly go on about the past, and how much she hated the Black’s. She liked having another female in the house, someone to tell her stories too, and someone to be girly with.  
Evidently, it turned out that Dorea had been a part of the Black family before she’d married Charlus Potter, much to her parent’s dismay. As a child she’d strived to impress her parents, agreeing with their pureblood mania. But during her school years she’d fallen into a friendship with a particular Gryffindor boy who was tutoring her in charms, and her views had changed. Charlus Potter was 2 years older than Dorea, but he hadn’t hesitated to offer himself as a tutor to the younger Slytherin girl, whom he’d developed a crush on in his 5th year. Being a cocky and jealous boy, he had even hexed the people who had offered to tutor her, so he definitely got the spot.  
At first she had hated being around him, but within weeks of their study dates they were beginning to fall into a friendship, and surprising to their rivaling families and Hogwarts houses, within a few months they began to date. Dorea made friends with pureblood and muggleborns alike, and for a while it had seemed that she got on with Gryffindors better than Slytherins. When Dorea graduated the two moved in together, but they didn’t marry for 5 or 6 years. James was born another 5 years after that, as the couple had had issues with conception.  
“I’m ashamed to call her my cousin. She’s truly terrible, talking about throwing a child out onto the street when she’s clearly got nowhere to go.” Dorea shook her head and smoothed her hand over Hermione’s hair as she wound the hair tie around the bottom of Hermione’s braid, before leaning back to observe her work. It had been a long time since she’d done a braid on someone other than herself. She was out of practice, so it looked a bit messy. She pursed her lips and fiddled with it a bit more before giving a small sigh.  
“That’s the best I can do, sorry, dear.” She gave a small smile and rose from the bed where she had been sitting behind Hermione.  
Hermione turned to look at her reflection, running a hand over the braid. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. My hair is so hard to handle.” She laughed softly as she eyed the frizz splaying out of the braid, before turning back to Mrs. Potter.  
“You’re welcome, dear. I haven’t done someone else’s hair in at least 20 years, except for Charlus’ of course. I have to keep his trimmed, or it ends up looking like James’.” She chuckled, and Hermione joined her in laughing. Hermione had only seen James twice; when she’d first met him and during dinner, but both times he had resembled a porcupine, with his dark hair sticking up on end. He reminded her so much of Harry, they looked so much alike.  
“James won’t let me touch his hair. He says that’s how he gets all the girls.” The older woman rolled her eyes, before turning and picking up a small bundle of material from the chest at the base of the bed.  
“Here, you can borrow this to sleep in, until we get you your own clothes.” She smiled warmly at Hermione as she reached to take the night gown from her hands. “It’ll probably be quite big on you, but it’s only for a couple of nights.”  
Hermione’s heart swelled warmly as she looked at Mrs. Potter. James’ mother had showed Hermione an awful lot of care and love in the few hours she’d known her, and it warmed Hermione’s heart to know that the woman was willing to take care of her until she found a family for her. She reminded her of her own mother in the way she was like that, so caring. She hardly knew anything about her but she was willing to let her sleep in her house and wear her old clothes, the opposite of Walburga, who had thrown a fit at the sight of her.  
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Potter. I’m so grateful for your generosity.” Hermione breathed as she held the night gown close to her chest.  
“There’s no need to thank me, dear.” Mrs. Potter smiled and leaned to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “It’s always nice to have another girl in the house.” She’d always wanted a daughter, although she’d never been able to have any children other than James.  
Hermione leaned into Mrs. Potter for a moment, her eyes sliding closed. She knew it wouldn’t be so bad here, with a loving couple looking after her until they found a family for her. And she could even get close to Sirius and James in the next few weeks, something her task required her to do.  
“Now, you’re welcome to come down once you’re dressed. We’ll have hot chocolate, and I’m sure the boys will goof around, as usual.” Mrs. Potter laughed as she pulled away, moving to turn down the top of Hermione’s bed covers down.  
“Last year, when Sirius came for Christmas, the first night they were together they broke all of my china plates; On accident of course.” She shook her head at the memory and straightened up, putting her hands on her hips. “Thank god for magic.” She smiled and brushed a hand over her dark curls, which were starting to go grey.  
“I think I might just go to sleep tonight. It’s been a long day.” Hermione smiled a little bit, holding the night gown to her chest. That was a bit of an understatement. Spending the morning at the ministry, pretending to be a pureblood girl with amnesia, all the while Walburga was breathing down her neck for any sign of someone muggle like. The last time she’d been in the Ministry of Magic she’d been with Harry and Ron, and they’d ended up getting chased by Yaxley and almost getting killed. You can imagine how paranoid she was that someone would jump out of the shadows and recognise her.  
“Have a good sleep, dear. Charlus and I sleep down the hall, and James and Sirius sleep down stairs, if you need someone” She placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, a warm smile on her face.  
“Goodnight,” Hermione breathed, watching the woman walk away, the door closing behind her.  
That night, Hermione slept easily, at peace in the Potter Mansion, full of people she trusted, even though she’d only just met them.


	6. Chapter 6

Both Sirius and James’ eyes flicked to the mop of curly brown hair across the table from them as they ate their breakfast; scrambled eggs on toast, mashed potato, sausages and strips of bacon, a tradition in the Potter household on a Saturday morning. Hermione was certainly different to any of the girls their age. Sitting there in her borrowed nightie, her hair giving quite the uncanny impression of a birds nest as she ate slowly, as if her mind was in another world. The other girls James and Sirius’ age would be gossiping and giggling over their breakfast, not staring into space, scrambled eggs and drool falling out the side of her mouth when she opened her while chewing. Alright, that never happened. But James gave a wee snigger as he thought about that happening.  
Hermione had been a resident in the Potter Mansion for 4 nights now, so seeing the brunette sitting across from them at the table wasn’t exactly a new thing, they were both slowly getting used to it. In fact, neither of the boys would be bothered by her far off expression at all – she often drifted into a dream world when nobody was talking, or the boys were stuffing their faces. Sirius guessed she was trying to recollect her memories. He would certainly be trying if he’d had his taken from him – if it wasn’t for the screaming they’d heard coming from her bedroom the night before.  
“Are you alright, Dear?”  
Hermione gave a little shake of her head as she was pulled out of her trance and glanced over at Mrs. Potter, and her lips curved into a small smile. “Sorry, I was…thinking.” She set her knife and fork down together on her plate, leaning back a little in her chair to show she was finished with her breakfast.  
“About your family?” James interjected quickly, leaning forward slightly as he anticipated her answer. But he didn’t get an answer. The only thing he got was an abrupt jab in the ribs from Sirius’ elbow.  
“Ouch!” James groaned and quickly lifted a hand to rub his ribs. His eyes narrowed at his friend, and he quickly threw his foot out, kicking Sirius in the shin.  
“Oi!” Sirius bellowed, slamming his fork down on the table. The two locked eyes, their jaws tight and their fists clenched.  
“Boys,” Mrs. Potter warned sharply, and the boys fell silent, turning and staring at their plates.  
Hermione avoided her eyes from everyone else at the table, wringing her hands awkwardly.  
Mrs. Potter didn’t give the boys a second glance, going back to her breakfast. She knew that neither of the boys would restart the fight, or they would face Mrs. Potter’s wrath. And that was definitely not something they wanted to experience. The ex Slytherin definitely had a bit of Black in her.  
It took a few minutes before James had enough nerve to look his mother in the eye and mutter, “May I be excused?” What can you say? The boy may be a Gryffindor, but even as a 13 year old; women were the scariest things on the planet, especially mad mothers.  
Mrs. Potter smiled at her son and nodded, setting her own knife and fork down. “Be quick at getting dressed. Your father and I need to go to the ministry on business, and we thought you and Sirius could perhaps take Hermione to Diagon Alley while we were there. Perhaps get some school supplies?”  
All three children looked at the older woman, their eyes swimming with questions.  
“School supplies? For Hermione?” James queried hesitantly.

Mrs. Potter rolled her eyes just slightly before replying, “Yes, James. Sometimes adoptions can…take some time.” She tried to say it lightly, but they all knew what they meant. Who knew if she would ever be adopted? Sometimes people went their entire childhood in the foster-care system.  
“But,” she continued quickly, turning her smile on Hermione. “Every witch should be well equipped with a wand, and I’ll be dammed if Hermione isn’t going to be well trained just like every other young woman in the wizarding world.”

 

Hermione couldn’t help the grin that was plastered to her face as she slowly made her way throughout the aisles of her favourite store in Diagon Alley. Flourish and Blott’s hadn’t changed at all since she was last here – or it wouldn’t change in the next eighteen years before Hermione would walk into the shop for the first time – well, except for some of the books on the shelves. Her fingers skimmed over the hard spines of the books on the highest shelf she could reach as she strolled through the maze of aisles, dust clinging to her fingers as she made her way towards the least popular aisles. But these aisles were her favourite- muggle novels, and a whole range of text books about all things magical.  
“Where are you?” She muttered quietly to herself as her eyes trailed over all the books, looking for a particular book that she loved to read over and over. Her grin grew even wider as she reached for it, low on the shelf in front of her. Hogwarts A History by Bathilda Bagshot. Hermione never got tired of reading this particular book, and had spent the previous day searching for it in Mr. Potter’s library. If it had been there, Hermione hadn’t found it. But now she could have her own copy to read whenever she liked. Her eyes flitted over the words she could almost recite from memory, and Hermione being Hermione, began to walk towards where she knew the few seats in the store were, with her nose in the musky book. She had only taken a few steps before she slammed into a wall of pudgy meatballs, and was met with a loud squeak.  
“Merlin, I’m sorry!” Hermione gushed as the book fell from her hands to the floor with a loud thud and she looked downwards, right into the wide and terrified eyes of a chubby, blonde rat. The boy seemed to shiver slightly as Hermione looked down at him, his round cheeks a rather bright shade of red.  
Hermione’s own cheeks were a little red, embarrassed that she hadn’t been paying attention to where she had been going.  
“Are you alright?” She asked softly, resisting the urge to bend down and touch his shoulder, as if he were a child much younger than she.  
Before the boy could answer, a quiet voice spoke from behind the both of them.  
“Are you alright, Peter?”  
Hermione’s body went cold, and her throat ran dry. Peter. Looking at the small boy again, she saw it. The small boy, chubby and shaking, his eyes squinty and swimming with fear. His long teeth cut into his upper lip nervously. It was definitely Peter Pettigrew. Her stomach flipped, and she struggled not to throw up on him then and there. Pettigrew! He betrayed Harry’s parents! He’s the reason that Harry grew up with his aunt and uncle, who never treated him like he was love. But she would change that. She would change everything.  
“I’m okay.” Peter gave a little squeak and turned away from Hermione to face the boy approaching them. Hermione too turned to look at the boy, and almost smiled when she saw who it was.  
Standing behind them was a long limbed boy with standing with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward slightly in a way that said that he was a shy boy, who didn’t like to be the centre of attention. With his sandy hair that fell messily onto his forehead and his kind eyes that looked at Peter, concerned for his friend, there was no doubt that this was Remus John Lupin standing before her, her future defence against the dark arts professor.  
“I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Hermione admitted quietly as she scooped up her book and gave first Remus, then Peter an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry for banging into you.” She tried to make her smile a little wider, but it was a little hard when looking at her best friend’s parents murderer.  
“I’m Hermione, by the way.” She held out her hand for Peter to shake, tucking Hogwarts A History under her other arm.  
Peter’s hand shook just slightly as he took Hermione’s hand and shook it, muttering, “Peter Pettigrew.”  
“Pleasure,” Hermione smiled at him and turned towards Remus, holding out her hand.  
“Remus Lupin, it’s nice to meet you.” He said as he obliged her by shaking her hand.  
“You aren’t by any chance the Remus Lupin that Sirius Black and James Potter are both friends with?” She asked, cocking her head to the side just slightly.  
Remus groaned a little bit, and his eyes crinkled sympathetically.  
“Whatever they’ve done, I’m sorry. Sirius has a habit of harassing girls, and James, well, he just likes to monkey around.”  
Hermione laughed and shook her head automatically. “No, no, nothing like that. Although, it wouldn’t surprise me if they did something like that…” She smiled at him softly. “I’ve heard them talk about you, is all.”  
Remus looked at her questioningly, his eyebrow raised just slightly.  
“Mr. and Mrs. Potter have been kind enough to…take me in, for a little while.” Was all she offered in explanation, her tight smile giving away the rest of her story. Both boys looked a little bit awkward at that, not knowing what to say to a girl who had lost her parents at such a young age.  
“What’re you reading?” Remus asked, trying to change the subject.  
Hermione looked down at her book, “Oh, erm, Hogwarts A History,” She said, holding it up for him to see.  
“So you found it, then?” Hermione jumped at the sudden voice behind her and narrowed her eyes at Sirius.  
“Sirius! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She chastised, tucking the book under her arm again.  
“Yes, mother,” Sirius rolled his eyes at her turned to Remus and Peter.  
“Remus! Mate!” He grinned and hugged Remus quickly, giving him a small clap on the back, before turning to Peter to do the same, although he was quicker with Peter. James followed his actions. It seemed that neither of the two boys were as close with Peter as they were with Remus, and Hermione hoped that this would make her job a little easier. She needed to push Peter out of their reach.  
The four boys were catching up, when Hermione widened her eyes a little bit.  
“Sirius, is that a black eye?” She asked, her voice rising with worry as she reached out. She may have only known him a few days, but he and James had been nothing but kind to her since she’d arrived in the Potter Mansion. They seemed to already be accepting her as normality, and as was she accepting them as two people who she would become very close to- or so she hoped.  
Sirius smacked her hand away, shaking his head. “It’s fine, Hermione. Don’t worry about it.” He rolled his eyes slightly. Sirius had gained many black eyes in the last few years, it wasn’t a shock to the other two boys. But it was a shock to Hermione.  
“However did you get it?” She asked, prodding at it with her finger.  
Sirius hissed out his mouth and smacked at her hand harder. “Honestly, Hermione!” He whined.  
“It’s not the first time he’s been punched by a girl, Hermione.” James sniggered a little bit and Sirius sent him a death glare.  
“Oi! Shuttup, you wanker!”  
“By a girl?” Hermione couldn’t help but snort, throwing her head back. “Let me guess, you were harassing her?” she looked at Remus, who gave her a small, but friendly grin.  
“Not at all! I just asked for her floo address!” Sirius argued, giving Hermione a playful push.  
“Sirius, she was 22, and married!” James objected with a loud chortle.  
Hermione snorted again. “Sirius, you sly dog!”  
This ultimately earned a bigger push, into the shelf beside her.  
Maybe her job wouldn’t be so hard after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione took a deep breath before knocking on the door to Dumbledore's office, before taking a step back and wringing her hands together to stop them from shaking. She didn't know why she was so nervous- this was Dumbledore for Merlin’s sake! He'd known her since she was eleven years old, watched her grow into a young woman and had watched her fight alongside Harry in the war. He'd allowed Harry to confide in her about all of the things he and Harry had talked about in their private lessons. And he was the one who had planned to send her back in time if anything had happened to Harry. He'd chosen her specifically for the job. Surely his younger self would believe her when she came to telling him her story. She should have got something from McGonagall to make sure that Dumbledore would believe her. What if he didn't? What if he threw her out? She would have to complete her mission herself...she may be smart, but she doubted that she would be able to take down Voldemort and a whole legion of death eaters by herself. 

"Come in, Miss Potter. I've been expecting you," the all too familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore spoke from inside his office, using her new name. 

As the Potter's were her foster parents of sorts, and she had no last name- that anyone knew of - it was agreed that Hermione would adopt their last name for the time being. One couldn't walk around with no last name. It would draw too much attention. So to everyone that wasn't James or Sirius - or Dumbledore, she hoped -she would be Hermione Potter. But to James and Sirius she was just Hermione. 

Hermione glanced down for a moment as she felt something brush around her ankles, and couldn't help but smile to herself at the black and white fluff ball curling around her. When the Potter's had told her she could get a pet to take to school she had been planning on taking an owl. An owl would have been useful for sending secret messages to Dumbledore, or to anyone else who she had to communicate with along the way. Staying in touch with the boys, even. Over the last few weeks of the summer she had become friends with the three of them - not counting Peter, because obviously Hermione didn't like Peter. The other three boys could tell, but said nothing on the matter, as Peter was oblivious to her discomfort around him and they didn’t want to hurt his feelings – and would want to keep in touch with Remus and Sirius during the holidays when they weren’t together. But when Hermione had seen the adorable black and white cat in the window in Diagon Alley she’d just had to get it. She’d be lying if she said the cat wasn’t rather funny looking, but then that was one of the reasons the cat stole her heart. He reminded her of Crookshanks, her old, brilliant cat that she had loved to pieces, but that Harry and Ron had hated. The black and white fur ball circling around her ankles had followed her around Potter Mansion since she’d bought him, and she wasn’t at all surprised to see him now. She’d named him Boris on Mrs. Potter’s recommendation, because according to her, “He just looks like a Boris.”  
“What are you doing here, huh?” Hermione asked, leaning down to pick up the fur ball and cradling him against her like a baby.  
“Ouch, Boris!” She hissed as he dug his claws into her and climbed up over her shoulder before he jumped back to the floor. He did not like to be held, although he was usually quite affectionate as long as you didn’t pick him up off the floor.  
“Miss Potter?” Dumbledore queried as Hermione didn’t open the door, instead watching Boris sit down on the top step and start bathing himself for a short moment.  
Hermione shook her head at the cat, before turning back to the door and pushing it open. When inside she closed it behind herself and approached the headmaster’s desk.  
The man sitting behind the desk didn’t look entirely different from her old headmaster. He looked a little younger, of course, with a few less wrinkles. His hair was still grey, but a little bit shorter, and his beard was also shorter and not tied in the middle. He sat straight in his desk with his hands entwined on his desk, and as he looked at the young, fluffy haired girl approaching his desk his eyes twinkled with a bit of mischief.  
“Sit, sit,” He urged the girl with a small smile.  
Hermione took a seat and crossed her knees, then her ankles, leaning back in the chair slightly. She couldn’t get comfortable. Maybe it was because she was about to spill her biggest secret, and she didn’t even know if he would believe her.  
“You said in your letter that this was urgent, Miss Potter. So we’ll just get straight to the point: what have you come to speak to me about?”  
Hermione took a deep breath and folded her own hands in her lap. Where to start? As she leaned forward she looked him straight in the eye and dove into the deep end.  
“I’m from the future.”  
Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked at the young girl sitting before him, and he raised both of his eyebrows in question.  
“Forgive me, Miss Potter, but it would not be wise of me to believe just anyone who tells me they are from the future.” He said, his eyes still twinkling with glee.  
“You sent me, Sir. I mean- Professor McGonagall did; on your orders.” Hermione’s lips turned down into a slight frown as she thought hard of how to convince him.  
“Do you have any proof? A message to me, a secret code from my future self?”  
Hermione’s eyes darted down to her hands, and seeing her knuckles going white as she clenched them she let go and instead drummed her fingers on her knees. Proof? Professor McGonagall hadn’t said anything about proof…she hadn’t thought she would need any.  
“Do you have anything that you bought with you from the future?” Dumbledore interrupted her deep thoughts, and Hermione snapped her gaze back up to meet his.  
“I have…I have the time turner!”  
Dumbledore’s lips turned up into a small smile as Hermione reached under her top and pulled out the delicate gold chain, to which the time turner was attached too. She had kept the chain around her neck all summer, never once taking it off, not even to shower.  
“It’s Professor McGonagall’s.” She gushed as she took it from around her neck and handed it over to Dumbledore.  
Dumbledore merely nodded as he took the necklace from her and peered down at the golden hoops. On the inside of the inner ring, sure enough, McGonagall was etched into the gold. And on the inside of the outer ring, 5 words were etched in Latin. Protege puella. Haec est una.

Protect the girl. She is the one.

That was all the proof Dumbledore needed. He glanced up at Hermione again, before moving to put the time turner into the top drawer in his desk.  
“How old are you?” He asked.  
Hermione almost sighed in relief when he relaxed in his desk chair. He believed her!  
“Sir?” She asked, frowning just a little bit when he asked for her age.  
“Forgive me, but I would never send a 13 year old to complete such a dangerous task.” He gave her a small smile.  
“I’m seventeen, Sir.” She paused a moment, before speaking again. “And what exactly do you know of my task?”  
Dumbledore nodded, and took a moment to think before speaking. “Miss Potter, I know not why you are here, but that it is of great importance. I have a few guesses to what your task is, but I think it would be best if we don’t discuss it unless you need my help.” He looked at her. “I assume that you have a plan?”  
“Of sorts.” Hermione nodded hesitantly.  
“Then I should probably work on your cover.” He looked at her. “Am I correct in assuming that you attended Hogwarts?”  
Hermione nodded. “I was a Gryffindor, Sir.”  
“Then you will continue to be a Gryfifndor. And I will organize your timetable tonight. I will place you in advanced classes, as I assume you will know most of what we will be teaching” He gave her a small smile, before standing up. “Come, you should join your new class mates in the great hall. And I should probably be at the teachers table, ready to give my speech. It’s a tradition, you know.”  
“I know, Sir.” She chuckled, and the two made their way out the door and towards the great hall. Hermione wasn’t surprised when Boris trailed behind them.

 

 

James and Sirius cheered loudly, banging both of their fists on the table as the last first year to be sorted took a seat at the very end of the Gryffindor table, blushing red to the roots of her hair. The two boys- three if you included Peter, which nobody really did- always made it their job to cheer awfully loud any time a Gryffindor got sorted, to make them feel welcome. Part of it was because when Sirius got sorted nobody cheered at all, the whole hall was silent and he just took his place beside the boy he had met on the train without saying a word. And the other part was because the two of them just liked driving the teachers crazy. Remus tried not to be too loud, although he did clap and give a few cheers on the odd occasion.  
“You two are going to drive everyone deaf!” Sirius jumped at the voice behind him, and turned to see Hermione standing behind him, her tie, which had been black with the Hogwarts crest on it, now showed maroon and gold stripes. Dumbledore walked past up the aisle to take his place at the teachers table, while Hermione took a seat in between James and Sirius.  
“You’re a Gryffindor!” James and Sirius crowed in delight, and James thumped her on the back like she was one of the guys.  
“I told you, I told you she’d be a Gryffindor! I mean, she’d brilliant enough to be a Ravenclaw, but I just had a really good feeling it’d be Gryffindor!” Sirius declared. His hand found Hermione’s hair and gave it a playful rub, making her already horrible nest of hair look even worse. But not that the boys would care.  
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had been a Hufflepuff.” James teased Hermione.  
“What’s wrong with Hufflepuffs?” Hermione asked, giving him a stern look.  
“Oh, nothing…” James shrugged, leaning against the table as Dumbledore started his speech.  
“It’s just Janice McKay is a total minger. And a dopey cow.” He shook his head.  
“And you’re comparing me to her?” Hermione asked with a frown.  
“Hermione’s ten times smarter than all of us. I’m definitely not comparing her to Janice McKay.” Sirius pulled a face.  
“But I’m a minger?” She asked.  
“You’re like my sister. I don’t really look at you that way.” James shrugged and started digging into the food that had just appeared on the table. The other boys followed his actions, and Hermione gave a small sigh before following their lead. She had always known that she was the ugly duckling, but having James compare her to someone he said was ‘a minger’ was definitely not something she liked. That was one thing that wasn’t good about being friends with only boys. They were a bit inconsiderate when it came to things like that. Maybe she should find some girl friends too.


	8. Chapter 8

“SIRIUS ORION BLACK THE THIRD, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” Hermione roared as she marched down the corridor of the Hogwarts express, a black and white fur ball walking in her wake and a prefects badge pinned to her chest. As she stormed towards the Marauders usual compartment at the back of the train, students darted out of her way into the nearest compartment, or pressed themselves up against the wall. They’d all learnt over the years to not get in a prefects way if they were angry, especially if that prefect was Hermione Potter. And Hermione Potter was more than angry.  
She was fuming, flapping her arms about and giving the uncanny impression of a bird as she tried to smack the flying sanitary items away from her. It seemed that someone had charmed the contents of her toiletry bag to follow her around since she’d left the compartment an hour ago to do her prefect rounds. Of course, she hadn’t noticed this until she’d heard a compartment of third years giggling at her as she told them off for clogging up the corridor.  
Hermione ripped open the door and pointed a finger in the direction of the long, curly haired boy who was holding his stomach as he snorted at the sight of Hermione. But when he saw her face, bright red with an angry scowl plastered upon it he abruptly stopped and shared a nervous glance with the bespectacled boy lounging on the seat across from him. James, all too familiar with Hermione’s temper, immediately gushed, “It wasn’t my idea, I swear!” at the exact same time Sirius shouted, “It was Prongs!”  
Hermione ignored the both of their pleas and turned her rage on Sirius. “You-!” She started, but was cut off as another sanitary item came zooming up behind her and hit her hard on the behind with a surprising amount of force for such a small object, and sent her stumbling forwards into the compartment.  
She was absolutely sure it was Sirius’ idea then and there. First of all, Sirius was into playing jokes like this on the Gryffindor girls. Just last month Dorcas Meadows had had a whole bucket full of tampons dumped over her as she walked into the great hall for breakfast. And secondly, Sirius, like any 16 year old boy, had a fascination with girls’ bums. And he made it well known. He still spouted a black and blue bruise on his cheek from when he’d given some older woman he didn’t know a smack on the rump the last Hogsmeade weekend.  
As she was pelted on the head by a few tampons, Hermione closed her eyes and gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m going to count to three,” She said slowly, her hands clenched by her sides. “And if the charm isn’t broken by then-”  
“Alright, alright!” Sirius barked, and with a flick of his wand the many sanitary objects in the air fell to the ground around Hermione.  
“Calm yourself, woman. It was just a bit of harmless fun.” Sirius lounged back in his seat and shook his head at Hermione.  
“Someone’s in tune with the moon, I’d say.” James added, picking himself up to clear some room on his side of the compartment for Hermione to sit. ‘In tune with the moon’ was their way of saying that Hermione was grumpy and therefore must be on ‘that time of the month’. It was quite a clever saying, although not at all funny when they were actually right and got smacked on the head by multiple books. Hermione had quite an arm. Or was it just that she always liked to read the thickest books, with the hardest covers?  
Hermione didn’t move from her spot. “That wasn’t funny, Sirius! Do you know how many people saw me? I’m going to be the laughing stock of the school! Nobody will take me seriously anymore!”  
Sirius rolled his eyes slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re a marauder, love. Nobody takes us seriously anyway!”  
“Vixen, he’s right. It was just a laugh.” James defended his best friend.  
Hermione had in this time frame for almost three years now. Their 5th year at Hogwarts had just ended, and the boys had all turned 16 during the year. Their first year together had been a bit jumpy. Peter had been like a lost puppy, following them around everywhere all the time, because he had no other friends. Hermione almost felt sorry for him, except for the fact that he was the reason James and Lily died so young and left Harry an orphan. With Hermione there, there was no place for Peter. Sirius and James were best friends, and something between Remus and Hermione just clicked. Within a year, they had become as inseparable as James and Sirius were, and Peter was completely out of the picture. At the end of their third year, Remus had told her his secret, which she took the pleasure in keeping for him until he also told Sirius and James. At the start of their fourth year, the three had started their journey to become animagus’.  
Hermione watched in awe as the stag approached her, shaking around his head and almost smacking her with his already massive antlers that crowned his head. She reached out a hand and stroked his head, trailing her hand over the antlers slowly, which were furry, covered in velvet. It was hard to believe that James’ animagus was already so big, when James was only 14. The stag stood nearly twice as tall as Hermione was, looking down at her with twinkling, mischief filled eyes. He was gorgeous, majestic even. Although she’d never tell him that. She didn’t want his head to get any bigger than it already was. She jumped in fright when a bark ringed in her ears, and suddenly the stag was on the ground, wrestling with a shaggy black dog, at least three times smaller than the stag was. It was quite a funny sight. At Hermione’s chuckling, the dog rolled off the stag and started to sniff her. And a moment later, James was standing where the stag had been.   
“Your turn, now, Mione.” He urged her with cocky grin, obviously proud of his animagus form.  
“Oh, I don’t know…can’t I just surprise you on the next full moon?” She asked, giving a nervous laugh.  
“You’ve got a stupid animagus, don’t you?” Sirius asked with a laugh as he appeared beside her in place of where the dog had been. He slung his arm around her shoulders as he asked, “What is it? An ant? A dung beetle ?” he teased her.   
“Nothing quite so small and crushable, although, James and Remus would probably be able to squash me if I got under their feet.” Hermione admitted, giving Sirius a push to get him off of her.  
“Come on, you have to show us! We showed you ours!” James said adamantly.   
“Yeah, it’s not fair if you don’t!” Sirius added.   
With a sigh, Hermione turned her back to the boys. “You can’t laugh, okay?”  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Sirius said with a quick roll of his eyes. “Just go already.”  
Hermione closed her eyes in concentration, as she was still quite new to being an animagus and needed concentration to change, and before long she felt a shrinking sensation.   
“A fox!” James burst out as he peered at the small, ginger animal with a long fluffy tail.   
“A Vixen.” Sirius corrected with a grin. “You were being stupid, Mione! Foxes are cool!”  
But the two boys frowned in confusion when a small meow sounded, and Hermione turned around to face them, in the form of a ginger cat, that only looked like a fox from behind.  
“Oh.” James said stupidly. “You’re a cat. Not a fox.”  
“Well, you were probably right. Remus is going to squash you like a bug.”m Sirius swore he saw the cat roll its eyes. “But, me and James are here to protect you, Vixen.”  
“Vixen? Mate, she’d not a fox. Obviously, it’s a cat.” James pointed out.  
“I know dipshit.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “But it suits her, don’t you think?”  
“How?”  
“Well, from behind she kind of does still look like a fox.” Sirius pointed out. “And Vixen can also mean a spirited woman, which Hermione definitely is.”  
James took a moment to think before he nodded. “I like it.”   
“And, in old myths, Vixens are demons used for sexual pleasurement.” Sirius stated with a cheeky grin. “Who knows. Little Hermione might not be as innocent as we thought.  
Sirius didn’t expect that cat to be able to hurt him. But when they all left the room of requirement he had multiple scratches over his face.  
Hermione was snapped out of her thoughts when the sliding door to the compartment opened, and a tired looking Remus walked in.  
“What’s going on? There’s a lot of chatter about Hermione being attacked by…you know. Lady things.”  
This prompted Sirius and James to burst into laughter, both at the fact that the students were still laughing at the prank they pulled on Hermione and the fact that Remus couldn’t even say ‘tampons’. Remus was a shy boy. He had always been shy and bookish, and when James and Sirius had started becoming interested in girls Remus kept his interests on books. Hermione didn’t mind this at all, in fact, it was one of the things she loved about Remus. When James and Sirius were out being stupid and telling sexual jokes, Remus would – most of the time. There was always the odd occasion when Sirius and James’ joked were actually funny – just dismiss the joke with a roll of his eyes and not join in with the shenanigans. He also seemed like one of those boys who knew nothing about the opposite sex and wasn’t even interested. He seemed quite innocent, really. But Hermione knew that this couldn’t be true if he were friends with James and Sirius. They were, of course, the type of boys who would sit opposite Hermione and hide a dirty magazine behind the cover of a text book and act like she didn’t realise.  
Hermione put her head in her hands and gave a frustrated groan at their laughing. “I told you! Nobody is ever going to take me seriously ever again!”  
“Oh, come on, Vixen. They will…maybe in a few years’ time.” James said with a snort, nudging her. “Cheer up.”  
Hermione responded by slouching in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest moodily.  
Remus shut the sliding door behind him before taking a seat opposite Hermione, his eyes sympathetic. He wasn’t a stranger to Sirius and James’ pranks. But, they had never been as ridiculous as the one they had done to Hermione. “It’ll be alright.” He said solemnly. “I’m sure they’ll have all forgotten about it by the time we come back next year.”  
With a small meow, Boris jumped from where he had been perched at Hermione’s feet and onto Remus’ lap. Remus instantly started petting the cat, but his attention never wavered from Hermione. Sirius instantly sat up straighter and wiggled away from Remus when Boris joined him, pressing himself closer to the window. Seeing him move, Boris hissed at Sirius and his tail flicked angrily. The two had never gotten along. Hermione didn’t know why. At first she had thought it was because of Sirius’ animagus form, but then when Boris had taken a liking to Remus, who was definitely more dog like than Sirius was, she had become utterly confused.   
“Bloody cat…” Sirius muttered, earning another hiss from Boris in reply.

Sirius did his best to ignore the cat, and instead looked over at Hermione. “I’m going to kill that cat, one day, Hermione.” He stated. “It’s loony. Just the other day I found him in the bottom of my bed! He shredded up my legs!”  
Hermione gave a snort and gave him a look that screamed, ‘you deserve it’. “He was just trying to play with you, probably.” She said dismissively, and then turned her attention back to Remus, pulling out the latest book she’d got from the library to chat with him about.  
Sirius watched Hermione for a few moments. It was obvious how mad she was at him and James – well, mostly him – and that was the last thing he wanted. With a small sigh, he turned away from her, and James caught his eye, raising an eyebrow in question.  
What’s up with you?  
Sirius shook his head in dismissal and turned his attention back out the window, watching the countryside roll by. It was going to be a long summer.


	9. Chapter 9

As the train pulled into Platform 9 & ¾ Hermione peered around James and Sirius, who had their heads out the window, to search for Mrs. and Mr. Potter standing in the crowd of parents on the platform. Unlike Sirius’ parents, who never bothered to come to the platform to collect him and his brother, both Mr. and Mrs. Potter were always there to welcome the four marauders home with bone crushing hugs. Hermione had never believed when she’d first arrived that at the end of the year she would be this happy to see her foster parents, but as she had grown closer to Sirius and Remus, she had also grown closer to James, Mrs. Potter and Mr. Potter. She loved them all like family. No - they were her family. James, her brother; Mrs. Potter, her mother and Mr. Potter her father. They were so kind and caring towards her, Hermione was scared to think what it would have been like had she been adopted by the Black’s.  
Seeing the familiar head of salt and pepper curls, standing beside a tall man with greying hair and round spectacles, Hermione turned from the window and ran out into the corridor, trying to push her way through the crowd of students to get to the door first. The thundering footsteps behind her signaled that the boys were all following her lead.  
Even once the doors were open, it took a while for the four of them to get out of the train and onto the platform because of the traffic buildup in the corridor. But once they were outside it was no trouble finding the older couple in the crowd.  
Hermione threw herself into Mrs. Potter’s arms, grinning from ear to ear as Mrs. Potter squeezed her tightly and kissed her head repeatedly while beside them James greeted his father with a hug as well. It was like this every year when they got home from school. Mr. and Mrs. Potter would greet all the children with hugs and kisses, even Sirius and Remus, who they considered their children as much as Hermione and James. They were at their house during the summer as much as James and Hermione were, so they practically were. Hermione moved on to hug Mr. Potter as Sirius swooped in for a hug from Mrs. Potter.  
He was a hugger at heart, which Hermione knew quite well. During the summers the four of them spent at the Potter Mansion together Sirius quite often found himself hugging Mrs. Potter, perhaps just because he loved the love and affection she gave him, which he didn’t get back at home. He also hugged Hermione a fair bit, although that was when they weren’t screaming at each other. They got on each other’s nerves a lot. He could be infuriating at times, but Hermione loved him like she loved James, and they got on like bread and butter when they weren’t fighting. When Sirius wasn’t glued to James’ side, you could find him with Hermione, either leaning against her, or lying with her on her bed with her as she read her books.  
At 16 he was very tall, and seemed to tower over Hermione who was average height. She knew he wasn’t that tall, but added to his well-built build from quidditch, he seemed it sometimes. In fact, all the boys were taller than Hermione, but Remus was the tallest, and was still growing fast.  
“It’s good to see all of you. The house has been so quiet all year without you!” Mrs. Potter cried as she crushed Sirius in a hug.  
Sirius grinned into her shoulder and squeezed her just as tight. “I’ve missed you too, Mrs. Potter.”  
And he truly had. He loved the Potters more than he loved his own family. He looked forward to when he could sneak out of the house and visit them during the summer.  
When they had all greeted each other with bone crushing hugs, the Lupin’s, who had been standing not far from the Potter’s, stepped forward to greet everyone, starting with their son and Hermione. Hermione was their favourite out of Remus’ friends, as she didn’t tend to get Remus in trouble whereas the other boys did. But they also greeted James and Sirius with hugs, before Mr. Potter and Mr. Lupin headed off to collect their trunks from the pile of luggage further down the platform.  
Mrs. Potter hadn’t stopped smiling since she’d seen them in the window, and now she stood with her hands clasped in front of her, and her eyes shining brightly in the joy of having her children home. As she started chatting with Mrs. Lupin about having Remus over later in the summer, Remus stepped forward to stand beside Hermione, ducking his head a little bit in a shy manner, his hands shoved in his pockets.  
“My parents are taking me camping this summer. After the moon…So I won’t be able to visit until…later in the summer. Probably around the week before we head back to school.” He murmured to her. “But I’ll write when I can. That’s if Mum doesn’t keep me tramping the whole time.”  
Hermione laughed and stood on her tip toes to wrap her best friend in a hug. “I’ll write to you too. Even if you don’t reply because you’re too busy tramping.” She chuckled again. “And I’ll come and help tomorrow night. For the moon.” This time she spoke at a whisper.  
The full moon was due tomorrow, and Remus had been feeling awful all day. He was supposed to be in bed, resting, but because of the train ride home he had to be up and around with everybody else. Remus wrapped his long arms around Hermione, leaning down so she didn’t have to stretch so far. His chin rested on her shoulder, and he got a face full of her nest of curls, but he didn’t care. He squeezed his eyes closed and inhaled her scent deeply. On days like these, his wolf senses were over whelming. He could hear everything, from peoples private conversations, to peoples heart beats if he really tried to listen. And he could smell things more clearly.  
Hermione’s scent was something that Remus’ inner animal had come to love when he came close to the full moon. He could smell her lemon shampoo clearly in human form, but on days like this is made his nose twitch and made him want to sneeze. He could smell the vanilla body wash she used, and deeper than that, he could smell her all natural scent. Those two mixed together drove him absolutely mental, and he didn’t realise that he was sniffing really loudly.  
“Moony, don’t wipe your bogies in Hermione’s hair.” James said with a snort, giving him a playful push.  
Remus abruptly pulled away, his cheeks warming a little bit. “Your shampoo makes my nose itch.” He tried to cover it up, giving his nose a rub.  
He glanced away, his shoulders slouching in embarrassment. Everyone thought that Remus was as interested as rocks as he was in girls, that when Sirius and James had started acting interested in girls, reading dirty magazines, that he hadn’t and was just interested in his books. That wasn’t quite true. Remus had had a few crushes in his lifetime, although, none that he could tell his friends about.  
His first crush had been on Lily Evans from the age of 12 until he was 15 years old. How could he not have liked her? She was so kind, gentle, smart, and not to mention good in the looks department. He had told nobody about this crush, because it had made him feel guilty just looking at her. She was James’ girl, and not only could he not have her because of that, there was no way that Lily would like him if James was his competition.  
He had also had a little bit of a crush around Emmeline Vance around the time he was 14. He’d tutored her in charms, although, after a few weeks she had stopped coming to sessions because James and Sirius kept teasing her.  
But both of those crushes had seemed to fade around the time he went to the Potter’s annual Christmas Party in the year just past. He, James and Sirius had always known that at some point Hermione would start to grow up, becoming more feminine as she did. But they hadn’t really noticed how much she had grown up until that day, when she had walked down in one of Mrs. Potter’s old dresses. His crush on her had bloomed from there. She was starting to grow into her teeth, although, her hair hadn’t tamed at all. It was still as wild and curly as it had been. He thought that she was adorable, with her wild mane and long teeth that she used to pinch her lower lip between when she was thinking hard. He’d been watching her since that day, but, there wasn’t much he could do about it. She was his best friend, and if he said anything it would ruin their friendship. Not to mention James and Sirius, who were like her brothers. How would they react to his crush?  
Turning his body away from Hermione and shoving his hands lower into his trouser pockets, his eyes flicked to the ground shyly. What did Sirius say? There were plenty more fish in the sea.  
“Don’t bother coming to help tomorrow… ” He mumbled to his friends. “I’ll be locked up. I’ll just end up hurting one of you.”  
His friends voiced their protests, but he shook his head adamantly, glancing over his shoulder to see his father growing closer. “It’s for the best.” He assured them. “I’ll just see you all at the end of the summer.” And with that, Remus Lupin turned and walked over to his father, taking his trunk, before walking away with his parents in tow.  
Following suit, the Potters – plus one Black – started making their way towards the brick wall that led to Kings Cross Station.  
“It makes me so angry!” Hermione muttered to Sirius as she shuffled through the crowds. “How they lock him up like that during the summer. Caging the beast only makes him more angry! He’ll take it out on himself!”  
“Well what do you expect them to do, love? Let him out on the town?” Sirius gave her a look. “Better caged and angry than in Azkaban for killing or infecting someone.”  
“It’s barbaric! I know they love him, but there needs to be some place he can roam without danger!” Hermione seethed.  
“Look, one day there might be. But for now…there’s no other way.” Sirius said, placing both his hands on Hermione’s shoulders to stop her. “He’s strong, Mione. He’s been dealing with his for years now. He can handle it.”  
Hermione nodded numbly, running a hand over her nest of curls. “I just worry about him.”  
“We all do.” Sirius brushed back her curls, holding her gaze. “But he can do this. We know he’s strong.”  
“Oi, you two, hurry up!” James ushered, waving his hand at the two from where Mr. and Mrs. Potter were standing in a deserted part of Platform 9 & ¾, waiting to apparate with them.  
Sirius and Hermione pulled away from each other. Hermione made her way towards the group, while Sirius stood stuck to the spot, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.  
“Will you be joining us for dinner, Sirius, dear?” Mrs. Potter asked as Hermione took her hand, smiling brightly at the boy she considered her second son as he stood opposite them, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
“Nah. I’d better get home. The she-witch will have a fit if I don’t get home soon.” He smiled at her, and for a moment his eyes flickered between the true fear Hermione knew he felt when going home, and the fake, happy shell he put on.  
“Well, you know you’re always welcome in our home, Sirius. Pop by any time you feel like it.” Mr. Potter said, flashing the famous Potter grin James always had on his face.  
Sirius gave a salute to them all, and the last thing Hermione saw before they turned on the spot, was Sirius’ face falling, and showing a true look of fear.  
When they apparated to their destination, Hermione looked around, a small frown appearing on her face. They were in the all too familiar adoption department in the Ministry of Magic. She’d spent some days here in her summers, meeting families who were looking for a daughter to adopt. But none of them had adopted her. Hermione didn’t care. She was happy with the Potter’s. They were he family. She loved them dearly. But what on earth were they doing here? Hermione had thought they would be finished here, that they had just accepted that she was a part of the family.  
Hermione caught Mrs. Potter’s eye, who smiled widely and held her arms out. “Surprise!”  
Hermione smiled nervously, “What’s the surprise?” She asked carefully.  
“Someone has come forward saying they’d like to adopt you!” She squealed happily, and hugged Hermione. She was happy for Hermione, happy that someone had finally said yes to adopting her. But she too was a little bit sad that Hermione would be leaving the house.  
Hermione’s heart fell. No! She couldn’t be adopted now! She didn’t want to leave the Potter’s! She wrapped her arms around Mrs. Potter and held her tightly, not wanting to let her go.  
Sensing her discomfort, Mrs. Potter kissed her head and looked at her. “I’m sure he’s a nice man, Hermione. He’ll let you visit us, I’m sure.” She kissed her head again and pushed her curls out of her face.  
“Hermione Potter?” The two looked up to see a woman with a clip board giving them all a fake smile.  
“This…is Mr. Wilkes. He’s going to be adopting you.”  
Hermione openly stared at the man. As she took in his dark manner, the way he looked at everyone with narrowed eyes, and the way one of his sleeves was rolled up but the other was not, there was no doubt in her mind that this man was a death eater.


	10. Chapter 10

“Girl! Dinner is ready!”  
Hermione flinched at the sudden angry voice and dropped her book onto the floor, the loud thud echoing around the empty upper floors of the manner. Hermione had been in her new home for less than 2 hours and she was already scared out of her wits. She hadn’t seen much of Wilkes. After showing her to her bedroom he’d swept into his office down the hall, slamming and locking the door behind him.  
Wilkes didn’t seem like a happy man, and he wasn’t particularly kind or paternal either. The few times he had spoken to Hermione in the time she had known him he had either yelled at her from down the hall, or he had glared down at her, his voice hard. This made her wonder why she was even there. It wasn’t like he’d just had the urge to adopt to fulfil his paternal urges.  
More than once the thought had crossed Hermione’s mind that Voldemort knew. He knew that she was from the future. He knew that she was here to defeat him. And he had ordered Wilkes as one of his followers to adopt her, and then dispose of her. This thought had caused Hermione to flinch and quake in fear every time she heard him stomping down the corridor outside her bedroom.  
“Did you hear me? Get down here now!”  
Hermione gulped a little bit and stood up, smoothing down the front of her pants in a nervous habit. She checked her wand was tucked firmly in the pocket of her jeans, before she walked out the door and down stairs, the floorboards creaking as she walked down the staircase.  
The house was old and dark, and reminded her much of 12 Grimmauld place in the way that she could hear an old, depressed house elf walking around the house talking to himself about anything and everything. Hermione wished she could help him, but it wouldn’t be wise of her to try in a pureblood household, especially since that pureblood was most likely a death eater.  
Hermione stood outside of the dining room, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she was worried that Wilkes could hear it in the next room.  
You can do this, for Harry and Ron; for James, Sirius and Remus. For everyone that was lost in the war.   
She didn’t need to keep reminding herself. The thought was always there, lightly settled in the back of her mind. But she always found she worked harder after reminding herself.  
Everyone makes sacrifices, Hermione. Remember what you made yours for.  
Hermione pushed the door open and slipped inside quickly and quietly, shutting it beside her. Although the room was dark, it didn’t take her long to spot Wilkes. He was at one end of the long table, which was probably meant for dinner parties and death eater gatherings, as it looked like it could sit a rather long number. He was also close to the flickering fire. He was so close to the fire, in fact, that Hermione could see an angry expression glowing on his face.  
“Sit.” It was only one word, but it was enough to send Hermione scurrying quickly to take the seat on his left. She draped a napkin over her lap and crossed her ankles under the table, trying her best to imitate the way Walburga had sat at the table those years ago where she had eaten dinner with the Blacks.  
She earned a grunt of approval from Wilkes, before he started to eat. Hermione followed his lead, eating slowly and trying to be proper and tidy while she did.  
“You were late. Next time I expect you to be here less than a minute after I’ve called for you.” Wilkes said, watching Hermione with narrowed eyes.  
“And I expect you to be wearing something tidy.” He looked at her jeans pointedly, before looking back up to her face. “There are a number of dresses and skirts in the closet in your bedroom. I guessed your size, but if they don’t fit you Darius will alter them for you.”  
“Yes, sir.” Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes on the man sitting in front of her. She made a mental note to not wear trousers in front of Wilkes.  
“Dear, you’ll call me father, now.” Wilkes said, flashing smile at Hermione that seemed almost evil as she sat there, chills trailing down her back from those three words.  
“Yes…father.” The words made her feel sick. She knew she could never think of this man as her father. She had just been starting to think of Mr. Potter as a father before she’d been adopted. She was heartbroken that she wouldn’t be able to keep living with the Potter’s, growing up with them. But she supposed it was better this way. This way, she would be more focused on her mission, being careful not to get caught. Although, it would be awfully hard to keep in contact with Dumbledore when there was a death eater breaking down her neck.  
Again, Wilkes nodded in approval as she called him father, but the evil looking smile stayed on his face all through dinner, as he explained what Wilkes’ do and what Wilkes’ do not do. It was pretty much a pureblood handbook, and hours later back in her bedroom, Hermione started scribbling the most important ones down in a notebook. Most of the rules she’d guessed would pop up.  
‘We don’t have any contact with mudbloods’  
‘We don’t associate with blood traitors’  
‘We don’t have any contact with squibs’  
‘We don’t have any contact with muggles’  
‘House elfs are not our friends. We do not speak to them and distract them from their work’  
And other stupid rules about appearance and punctuality. Hermione, as she was told, was also to keep up her good grades and appearances as prefect. She guessed there was an ‘or else’ that had disappeared from that sentence when he told her, because the look on his face was rather threatening.  
Not once did he say anything about her being in Gryffindor, and that bothered Hermione. There were a lot of purebloods in Gryffindor house, in fact, there were many spread out across all four houses, although mostly in Slytherin. She knew that something would probably be said later on about having contact with James, as she knew his family were known as ‘blood traitors’. Something would be said about Sirius too, eventually. After he left home, which she knew would be later on this summer.  
She didn’t know what she would do without her friends…she didn’t want to start associating with Slytherins. She didn’t want to lose her best friends all because Wilkes said she had too. She could ignore him, although, he would probably find out. There were many spies in Slytherin that would most likely report back to him on her activities inside and outside of the classroom.  
But most of all, Hermione wanted to know what she was doing here. She paced her bedroom as she thought of how she could find this out.  
Her bedroom was what you would expect from a pureblood house hold: it was average sized, with a large, canopied bed in the middle, much like her room at the Potter Mansion, except it was extremely green. It had multiple sets of drawers complete with a vanity mirror, and a desk over in the corner, accompanied by a book shelf, which Hermione had already taken the liberty in setting her books up on. But the room was rather gloomy looking. It was dim, dark, and made Hermione rather down while looking around. In this way, it wasn’t at all like Potter mansion. Potter mansion was bright and colourful. It made Hermione happy just being here, rather the opposite to here.  
Hermione sunk down onto her bed when no ideas came to her, and she rubbed her temples. There just weren’t any logical reasons on why she was here, other than Wilkes adopting her so he could dispose of her with no mess. He had no wife that he could present with a child to make her happy. No, it was just him, and Darius, the house elf. Was he lonely? No, Hermione didn’t think so. He seemed to like being on his own. He spent most of his time in his office by himself.  
Hermione stood up abruptly. His office! She could search his office! Surely there would be some answering in there as to why she was here. Letters, documents, maybe. She had to try. She wasn’t just going to sit there and wait for Wilkes to murder her in her sleep.  
But how could she get in there without being caught? She wished as much as ever that James was here with her. Not just for his invisibility cloak. She wanted someone to lean on, someone to confide in. All she had was Dumbledore. She wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else of her predicament.  
Hermione glanced down at her wand and gave a defeated sigh. She would have to settle for an invisibility spell, and they weren’t even in the same league as the invisibility cloak. They weren’t as reliable, and the spell would drop if she banged into someone, or if they knew she was there. And it wouldn’t last nearly as long.  
Without any hesitance she tapped herself on the head and muttered the spell, and a cold feeling washed over her, like freezing cold water dripping down her back. She glanced in the mirror, nodding in approval when she couldn’t see herself. Ever so slowly, she opened the door and stepped outside, glancing up and down the hallway to check the coast was clear before she began to walk. The purpose of secrecy was defeated when every so often the floorboards would creak under her feet. She just hoped that Wilkes was too busy, wherever he was, to hear it.  
She tip-toed down the hallway ever so slowly, trying to be as quiet as she could. When she got to the first door on her left, she stopped and pressed her ear to the door. Nothing. No sound of life what so ever. Hermione glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was coming, before ever so slowly opening the door, wincing at the loud creak it made. Surely someone would have heard that. She would have to be quick. She darted inside, and frowned, disappointed at what she saw. It was just a spare bedroom that was unoccupied. Everything was covered in white sheets to stop the dust from settling on the furniture. Hermione gave a disappointed sigh, and stepped back outside, and almost squealed to what she came face to face with. Well, knee to face. Darius stood in front of her, although he was looking straight past her, into the bedroom. Hermione held her breath and leaned against the wall, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.  
“Master?” Darius’ voice was wheezy, and that along with his rather saggy and wrinkly skin told Hermione that he was a rather old house elf.  
He stared into the bedroom for a few moments, before shutting the door. And for a moment, Hermione swore that he looked right at her, before padding away down the hallway, leaving Hermione alone.  
Hermione took a few minutes to calm herself, before she kept going down the hallway. She couldn’t stop now.  
When she got to the second door on the left, she stopped, and pressed her ear to it. And she could hear Wilkes inside. But he wasn’t alone.  
“Blast it…” Hermione muttered to herself, and went to pull away. But she was pulled back to the door by what she heard Wilkes say.  
“She’ll be ready by the end of the summer, I believe. It seemed being with the Potter’s has not been a complete waste of time for her. She has manners, and the ability to follow orders. And I believe that possibly halfway through the summer I could start training her, for you, my Lord.”  
Hermione felt sick. My Lord? Voldemort was standing in the room right beside her.  
“Good, good. She shows more promise already than that of the other two. Daniel is a slob, and Gilbert won’t listen to anything he is told. Both have already been punished.”  
“Already? But it hadn’t even been a day.” Hermione heard a cold laugh, obviously Wilkes.  
Voldemort didn’t sound amused. “They are pureblood. And that is all that matters.” He said, his voice smooth, although it had the ability to sound scary at the same time, and Wilkes quietened.  
“Keep an eye on her. Watch her every move. Bellatrix did remind me that she did turn up out of the blue on her aunt’s doorstep three years ago. If everything goes to plan, start training her. But report back to me on everything.”


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione carefully counted out the coins in her hand, making sure she had the right amount of money, before she placed it onto the counter in front of her and gave a shy smile to the lady at the counter, apologizing on how long it had taken to sort out all her coins to get the exact amount. It had been a while since she had been out and about in the wizarding world, in fact, she hadn’t left the manor since she’d arrived at her new home at the start of the summer, and when she’d first stepped outside the fresh air had made her a little bit dizzy.  
Darius usually did the small amount of shopping for Wilkes, and by extension Hermione. But this was usually only apparating to the local wizarding grocer, and picking up ‘the usual’ order for Wilkes. When Hermione had awkwardly said to her new father that she’d needed feminine products, he had first dismissed it quickly, saying that Darius would pick them up for her. Little did he know, that Hermione had talked to Darius about it earlier, and rattled off about all the different brands and sizes, and the house elf had become quite confuzzled. The poor elf had never had to deal with living with a female before; he didn't know what to do! He had cautiously suggested that Miss Hermione get them herself. And afterwards he had smacked himself over the head with Hermione’s bedside lamp, much to Hermione’s horror.  
She hadn’t wanted the poor elf to start punishing himself because she was confusing him. It made her feel wracked with guilt. Because she’d tried to confuse Darius on purpose. All she had wanted was to go out, get some fresh air. She hadn’t realised that Darius, much like her old friend Dobby, punished himself for saying things like that. But in the end, it had worked. Darius had, in a frightened voice, announce to his master that he wasn’t sure what to get for Miss Hermione. Although Wilkes had been quite mad about this, he had begrudgingly agreed that when he went out for business Hermione could accompany him and do some shopping for herself. It was on that morning that he had put the bracelet on her and put the curse on it.   
At first, Hermione had been sure it was a hoax, and it wouldn’t actually do what he had said. But when Hermione bumped into a muggle outside the three broomsticks pub on their way to Diagon Alley, and she had apologized, she had flinched at the painful, burning sensation on her wrist, under where the bracelet laid upon the skin of her wrist. Wilkes had seemed to find it funny, watching her face contort with pain at the burning sensation that lasted a minute at most. Hermione already hated him, but in that moment she hated him even more.  
Leaving her to walk through Diagon Alley on her own, Hermione was left to test out the bracelet. It seemed to be dormant, except for when she fiddled it. The more she played with it the more it would hurt. And she didn’t want to test it out talking to people she was forbidden to talk to. She imagined that it would hurt worse than apologising to a muggle.  
“Two galleons change,” the woman at the counter said, slipping the two coins into Hermione’s hand and snapping her out of her trance, before starting to bag her products.  
“No, no, it’s alright. If you don’t mind, I’ll just put them in here…” Hermione pulled her shoulder satchel off and opened it. “I don’t want to take it if I don’t need it…it would be a waste.”  
The witch smiled at her and obligingly put the items Hermione had bought into her bag. “Have a good day!” She called to Hermione as she walked out of the shop, the door closing behind her with a gentle jingle.  
Hermione sighed as she breathed in the fresh air and walked down the crowded street of Diagon Alley. She still had a little while before she had to meet Wilkes, and as she looked around the busy street, without thinking about it she found herself walking in the familiar direction of the bookstore. It was her favourite place, other than the library at Hogwarts, or the Gryffindor common room. What she wouldn’t give right now to curl up on the worn sofa in the Gryffindor common room with a book, leaning on one of her friends shoulders, listening to them bicker about who won the game of chess, in front of a cozy fire. That was her idea of the perfect day. One last day with her friends.  
She’d already been given the talk by Wilkes, sorry, her father. What were the rules again?  
‘We don’t have any contact with mudbloods’  
‘We don’t associate with blood traitors’  
‘We don’t have any contact with squibs’  
‘We don’t have any contact with muggles’  
‘House elfs are not our friends. We do not speak to them and distract them from their work’  
And if she was told she wasn’t allowed to talk to blood traitors. Hermione was game enough to ignore his rules, of course, but only if there was no way he would find out. With connections in the Death Eaters, and therefore also some of the older students in Slytherin house. They would report back to him, obviously. And Hermione couldn’t get in trouble. She had too much riding on this. She needed to infiltrate the death eaters, she needed to get in Voldemort’s good books, somehow. And she knew that she wouldn’t be able to save James and Lily if she was dead. She would take the rest of the school with no friends, over the wizarding world crumpling, Remus losing all of his friends, Harry growing up not being loved, and Voldemort taking over in the future. She could still protect them all as a death eater. And she would.  
Hermione spent the rest of the time she had left as a free woman reading in her favourite corner of the bookstore, curled up on the bean bag. She was reading the latest biography out from a man who had lycanthropy. It was a sequel to a favourite of hers, and she was hoping he would put out at least one more book about his life. She wanted to buy it, but not only would her father go nuts at her for having a book about a werewolf, he would probably also go nuts at her for spending the rest of his money he’d given her on something like that. So when her time was up, she put the book back on the shelf, before making her way out of the bookstore. She had only taken a few steps before she banged into a wall of flesh. And she was engulfed in a hug.  
“Vixen! Geez, I was getting worried that you’d been murdered and buried in the back yard! You haven’t replied to any of my letters, or Padfoots! Or even Moonys! We were all freaking out!”  
Hermione pinched her eyes closed at the sudden burning sensation in her wrist. She knew who it was. James, of course. It wasn’t just the talking that gave it away. It was the burning, too. She knew it would be more painful when she spoke to someone she was forbidden from talking too. And she was absolutely forbidden from talking to James Potter.  
“G-get off me.” She croaked a little bit. She had to get away from here.  
“What?” James laughed and looked down at his friend, his sister. “Merlin, Vixen, I swear you’ve gotten shorter!”  
“Get off me!” Hermione repeated, a little louder, and this time James listened, stepping backwards and frowning at her.  
“What’s wrong with you? You’re not in tune with the moon, are you?” Sirius asked teasingly as he appeared at her side, poking her in the ribs.  
“No, I’m not ‘in tune with the moon’!” Hermione sighed and rubbed at her wrist, her face contorting with pain.  
James frowned further that time, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He shared a quick glance with Sirius.  
“Are you alright, Hermione? You’re not usually like this…except when we’ve pranked you…but we haven’t done anything this summer…except for sending you that howler…but it was in good spirits I swear…”  
Hermione wasn’t listening. She was staring off into space, well, actually, into the shop across from them. There stood Wilkes, watching her with a menacing look on his face.  
You can’t protect them if you’re dead, Hermione. Do something!  
“Leave me alone!” She snapped at the two of them, making them both flinch. It wasn’t out of Hermione’s character to yell at them, but this time it was different.   
“What’ve I done now?” Sirius groaned, shaking his head at her. Bloody moody witch.  
“I don’t talk to blood traitors like the likes of you.” Hermione sneered at him, her face screwing up in disgust.  
Both Sirius and James faltered then, and the unmistakable look of hurt was in their eyes.  
“Get out of my way,” Hermione pushed past them, stomping away, trying to look like she was angry. But really she was just covering up her real feelings. Her heart was breaking.


	12. Chapter 12

Those next three weeks at Hogwarts were torture for Hermione. The term had well and truly started, and she had been swamped with essays and other homework tasks that she tried to focus on to distract herself from her ever growing loneliness, and guilt from what she had said to those she cared most about. She felt awful. How could she have said that to them? It was in times like these that she remembered how a simple word could wound someone so greatly. It had been years since she had been called that dreadful word, years since she had felt the amount of pain that she had caused James and Sirius. But she knew that they had to be hurting even more than she did, when called that dreadful M word back in her old life, for James and Sirius had been hurt by their friend, someone they had thought that they could trust.  
Hermione spent most of her time in the library these days, avoiding the Gryffindor common room as much as possible. Though she found all of the work and studying she done boring, as she had already learnt most of it, she welcomed the boringness of her distraction. It was either that, or face the music. And she wasn’t quite ready to do that yet. Call her a coward if you will, but Hermione was afraid that when she went to apologise to her friends, they would dismiss her with a flick of their wrists. Hermione had never had many friends back in her old life, and it was the same now. She spoke to Marlene and Alice on occasion. They were nice girls, but Hermione had always felt more at home with the boys. Her marauders.  
She had a different relationship with all three of them, each held a different place in her heart, but she loved each of them as equally as each other.  
James was her brother. He was there to comfort her each time she woke to nightmares back at Potter Mansion, even when she assured him that she was fine, and that it was just a stupid dream. He saw through each and every of her lies. He could read her moods like a book. He teased her mercifully, and he cared for her like any big brother would.  
Sirius was her confident. Although out of all the boys Sirius was the one that teased her the most, the one she fought with the most, the one who drove her to the verge of insanity, she had a special bond with Sirius. When he had stayed at the mansion when she was still there, they had stayed up late through the night speaking about anything and everything. Anything that was bothering her. And they often spoke about the day she had arrived. In the first year, Sirius had always asked her if she remembered anything about her parents, how she got to Grimmauld place, and even her blood status. He was the only one who knew what her true blood status was. And it was a secret he’d kept for her, even after she had called him a blood traitor. She knew how much he must be hurting, what he must think of her.  
And Remus was her best friend. The two of them went together like muggle peanut butter and jam sandwiches. He was her study buddy, and they would often be found in their favourite corner of the library together, talking about books, or helping each other with their homework. He was her protector. He would usually protect her from Sirius and James’ practical jokes, except for when he was apart of them. He may be quiet, but he was still a marauder. And marauders were all known for pulling practical jokes now and then. He was her secret keeper. While she spoke to Sirius about things that were bothering her, Remus was the one she shared her secrets with, and vice versa. She remembered the day he told her about his lycanthropy vividly, and it was always burning in the back of her mind.  
Hermione set the stack of well-organized notes from the classes she and Remus shared on top of his carefully folded clothes inside his trunk, before shutting it and clicking the clasps shut. She was getting used to the routine of doing this for her friend by now, as for the last few months she had been taking notes at his request.   
“How’re you feeling? Any better from this morning?” Hermione asked as she took a seat beside Remus on his four poster bed in the boys’ dormitory. The boys’ dormitory, to sum it up in one sentence, was a complete pigsty. Over by Sirius and James’ beds, you were lucky to see a patch of floor somewhere though the pile of clothes, notes and text books on the floor. It wasn’t so bad around Remus’ bed, but sometimes Sirius’ things came creeping over and found themselves splayed out all around the room. And it smelled like someone died in there. Hermione had tried to convince them to air out the room multiple times, and Remus had told her there was no use in trying to convince them. It would always end up getting back to the disgusting mess. Besides, you got used to the smell.   
Remus shook his head slowly, opening his eyes to look at his friend as she sat beside him on his bed. “I’m still not feeling too well.” He admitted quietly, running a hand over his handy hair nervously. Usually, he would lie and say he was feeling ‘loads better’ but for some reason, he knew Hermione never believed him. Was he that bad of a liar?   
“Did you want to head over to the hospital wing, then?” Hermione asked softly. “I’m sure the nurse will take much better care of you than those tossers can,” She looked over Remus’ head to where Sirius and James both laid drooling on their pillows where they had apparently fallen asleep from the boredom of homework, and couldn’t help but laugh gently at their snoring. Boys.   
She knew that Remus would usually head over to the hospital wing about now, and would stay in all day tomorrow, before heading to the Whomping Willow later that evening for his transformation. She knew his moon schedule inside and out, almost as good as he did.   
Remus tried to look hesitant before he nodded, and sat up, wincing at the aching in his bones that was already beginning.   
“Here, let me help you.” Hermione stood up and held his arm, holding onto him as he got to his feet. She hoped she was helping to ease the pain a little bit. She hated seeing him like this.   
With Hermione’s help, Remus put his shoes on and the two made their way towards the hospital wing, Hermione’s arm around his waist, supporting him in case he needed her. In time they made their way to the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey was quick to help Remus into one of the beds, ordering him to get some rest and for Hermione to go.   
But Remus grabbed her wrist, looking up at her with big, almost pleading eyes. “Will you stay for a minute? There’s something I want to tell you.”   
Already Hermione could see the nervousness on his face. Was this the moment? Hermione had been waiting for him to tell her about his lycanthropy since they’d become friends. She knew that he would tell her when he was ready, and until then, she’d kept her mouth shut, not saying anything.   
Remus glanced up at Madam Pomfrey as she stood beside his bed, and bit his lip. “Could you give us a minute alone?” he asked. The nurse took a little convincing, but she left once Hermione promised she would leave straight after they were finished talking and let Remus get his rest.   
Remus wiggled over, leaving space for Hermione to sit down beside him on the hospital bed, and bit his lip, his shoulders slouching in the shy habit he still had, and would carry into adulthood.   
“I have something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while now…but I’ve been too scared to tell you. I was afraid that once you knew, you’d see me in a different light..” Remus looked down at his lap, where he was fiddling with his hands nervously.   
“Nothing would change my opinion of you, Remus. You’re my best friend.” Hermione spoke softly, but she soon fell silent, waiting patiently for Remus to speak.   
It took a minute or two, but finally Remus spoke up. “I’m a werewolf.” It took a few moments for him to dare look at her, afraid to see disgust on her face. But when he did look at her, all he saw was the kind, gentle expression on her face.   
“Thank you for telling me.” She murmured, her hand moving to his shoulder.  
“You’re not…afraid?” He asked, surprised that she wasn’t already running from the room screaming.   
Hermione shook her head. “Afraid? Of you? Remus, I know you wouldn’t ever hurt anybody on purpose.” She murmured. “You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. Being a werewolf doesn’t change anything.” She assured him, and wrapped him in a hug.  
Remus couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped through his lips. “Thank you Hermione, it means so much to me that you don’t care.” He breathed, hugging her tightly. “Please- don’t tell the others. I’ll tell them in good time.”  
“Of course, Remus. I’ll always keep your secret.”  
Hermione had been so wrapped up in her memories that she hadn’t noticed a black and white fluff ball approaching her. But when he jumped onto her lap where she sat in an abandoned corridor, she jumped in fright.  
“Boris!” She cooed, picking him up and holding him against her chest, cradling him. She’d missed him dearly. Wilkes hadn’t allowed her to bring him with her, so the Potter’s had kept him for her.  
“I thought you’d want to see him. After all, nobody should be along on their birthday.” Hermione looked up at the familiar voice. The first thing she saw was a floating cupcake, with one lit candle in it. The second thing she saw was a tall, lean boy, with sandy hair flopping over his eyes as he leant against the wall in the shadows.  
“Remus…” She breathed, putting Boris down and standing up. She was hesitant to approach him just yet, so she held her ground.  
Remus had changed over the summer. He had grown an extra half a foot, it looked like, his adams apple had become a bit more prominent, and the last of his puppy fat had been lost from his long face, leaving his jaw to stick out a little but more chiseled. His voice had also changed a little bit, become deeper. He was beginning to look a bit more like her older Defense Against The Dark Arts professor.  
“Sirius kept care of him for you, even after that day in Diagon Alley. You should see the scratches he’s got from him.” Remus said, staying where he was in the shadows, not making any move to approach her.  
“You’ll have to thank him for me.” Hermione said softly, nervously fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. It burned a little as she did, but she was used to it by now.  
“Why don’t you thank him yourself?” Remus asked. Hermione looked down, avoiding his eyes.  
“You know, I’ve been watching you for the past couple of weeks. It doesn’t make any sense.” He said, stepping from the shadows. “You avoid us. Spend all your time doing school work. You don’t even look at us. And yet, you don’t talk to any of the Slytherins. You avoid them more you do us.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And the few times you look at Sirius and James, you open your mouth to talk and flinch. Why is that?”  
Still, Hermione avoided his eyes. He approached her quicker this time, taking long strides until he was merely a few inches from her, and he grabbed her hand. She flinched as he started fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist, and pulled her hand away sharply.  
“Hermione, stop!” Remus sighed, and held onto her wrist tightly, trying not to hurt her but not being able to help it.  
“What is this? I know it’s been hurting you. Look at it! It’s burning you!” with his other hand, he lifted up her chin and looking into her eyes. “Who made you wear this, Hermione?”  
It took Hermione a few moments to answer, but eventually she did, her voice just above a whisper. “My father.”  
Remus let go of her chin, shaking his head. “I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t have said what you did without a reason.” He said, looking down at his best friend with soft eyes.  
“Why didn’t you just say something? Apologise to them. Make up. Things could go back to the way they were.”  
“That’s the thing…I can’t Remus. I can’t talk to them. I’m forbidden. That’s what this is for.” She whispered, holding up her wrist. “To stop me from talking to ‘blood traitors’. He made he wear it. He cursed it, too. So I can’t talk to people he’s told me not to.”  
Remus shook his head, muttering something about that being barbaric, before grabbing her wrist again and tugging at the bracelet again, trying to pull it off, break it off somehow. But it wouldn’t budge.  
“It won’t come off.” Hermione cried. “I’ve tried. With everything, spells, knives, even fire! But it can’t be harmed. It can’t come off unless he is the one to take it off.” Remus looked down at his best friend with sad eyes.  
“Come on.” He said gently, tugging on her arm and starting to pull her down the corridor.  
“Where are we going?”  
“To see James and Sirius. You need to make up.”  
“But I can’t talk to them, Remus!” She cried.  
“You may not be able to, but I can. You tell me what you want me to say to them, and I’ll say it. And vice versa for them.” He said simply.  
Hermione was quiet for most of the walk, but spoke up when they neared the common room. “Remus? How did you know I didn’t mean it?” She asked quietly.  
“One time, a kind witch once told me that she knew I wouldn’t hurt anybody on purpose.” He looked down at her. “And I know the same for you, Hermione.”


	13. Chapter 13

“What is she doing here?” James glared at the bushy haired bookworm standing beside Remus and crossed his arms over his chest in an angry manner. The way he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at the sight of her made it obvious that he was beyond mad at her. He had changed over the summer, but Hermione hadn’t really noticed until now, because she was fully looking at him for the first time since the start of the summer. That fateful day in Diagon Alley she had only allowed herself a small glimpse, because she had believed that it was the last time she’d get to see him and talk to him face to face. And over the lonely days she’d spent by herself at Hogwarts, she hadn’t even allowed herself that, thinking it would hurt more if she looked at them.  
He’d grown a little. Like Remus, he was taller than she was, and he seemed to be rapidly approaching 6 foot. His hair had grown, and as always, it was sticking up on end, like he’d crawled through a gorse bush. This was all accompanied by a small amount of dark stubble growing on his cheeks, something he hadn’t had before the summer, which he scratched at as he stared Hermione and Remus down.  
“Get the hell out of our dorm, Wilkes. We don’t want the likes of you in here.” James sneered at her, using the only name he’d referred to her as for the last few weeks. He figured that if Hermione was referring to him as ‘blood traitor’ then he needed something other than her name to call her, but he wouldn’t stoop so low as to call her something as rude as what she had called him.  
“James, please,” Remus sighed exasperatedly, and gave Hermione’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s be civilised about this.  
“Civilized?” James laughed sarcastically and looked at his friend. “Since when is it civilized to suddenly start ignoring all your friends letters, and then when you see them for the first time in months, call them one of the most insulting things in the wizarding world, a word that until then, she hadn’t even been able to stand hearing it, let alone saying it?”  
“There’s a reason she said it, James.” Remus said, glancing down at Hermione with a small frown. Well, supposedly there was a reason. He hadn’t quite heard the whole reason as to why she said the words she had. He knew it had something to do with the bracelet on her wrist, and that was about as far as he had figured it out. But he figured that this was about as good a time as ever to start explaining herself. But first, he had to get the other 2 to listen.  
“It’s her father’s doing. Not hers. Don’t blame her when you don’t know the whole story.” Remus said, and was about to continue again when James interrupted.  
“Well what is it then? What is it that could have possibly convinced her that it was okay to treat her best friends, the people who have looked after her, took her in, like vermin?” He snapped, stepping closer, so he seemed to be towering over Hermione. He had a rule that he didn’t hurt girls, he would never strike one, but right now, he wanted to inflict the same pain on her as she had on him.  
Remus stepped in front of the shorter girl beside him, his face inches from James, they were so close that he could smell garlic on James’ breath from the spaghetti he had had for dinner. “Her father is trying to control her, through means of a bracelet.” He said slowly, gritting his teeth to keep his frustration hidden. He was usually a very calm person, except around full moons, where his temper could be bought out much easier. But while the full moon wasn’t close, James had a certain quality about him that could frustrate anyone by the simplest of things.  
At the mention of the bracelet, Sirius perked up, moving for the first time since Hermione and Remus had entered the dorm. He and Hermione spoke at the same time, although Hermione was careful to only direct her words to Remus, while Sirius’ was directed to both her and Remus.  
“He’s not my father.”  
“What kind of bracelet?”  
Remus looked up at Sirius, and gently tugged Hermione forward by her wrist, holding it out for the two boys to see. The bracelet was thin and looked like a homemade friendship bracelet, hardly conspicuous to anyone who didn’t know Hermione. She didn’t have any good female friends for her to get a friendship bracelet from. She could only possibly get them from the boys, and none of them were really the jewelry type.  
Sirius stood from where he had been perched on his bed, lounging against one of his bedposts. Much like James, Sirius had been upset greatly by Hermione saying those things to him. But unlike James, who was showing his feelings by being angry all the time, Sirius instead sat sadly and pondered why Hermione had said such an awful thing. After all, it was Hermione. Hermione who had shown up outside his house, Hermione who had been so lost, so helpless, homeless. Hermione who had been so obviously muggleborn at that moment, Hermione who had spoken about it with him many nights. How could she change her point of view so quickly, just because she was adopted by a pureblood? It had hurt him so much, much more than it could have James, simply because it was a secret that the two of them had shared, spoken about. And he in turn had spoken to her, and only her, about how awful living with his parents was. How he was always the outcast, the blood traitor, the black sheep of the family. He tried to act like it didn’t hurt, but it did. And when he had run away that summer to the Potter Mansion, where he knew he was always welcome, he would have felt better about it if he had had Hermione’s shoulder to cry on.  
The tall, broad shouldered boy made his way over to the group standing in the middle of their dormitory, and his rough, calloused hands took a hold of Hermione’s wrist, peering down at the handmade bracelet that was tied around her wrist. Her usually milky skin was bright red and burned under the bracelet, and when he saw it, his eyes closed, and he sucked in a breath.  
“Mione…” He breathed, tugging on her arm gently, and pulling her closer to him.  
“What is it?” James asked, not having seen the likes of the bracelet before.  
But Sirius had. Sirius had seen as bracelet like this in his own home. His father had threatened him with one at the start of the summer, before he’d run away. He knew exactly what it was, and what it did. And his heart ached for the beautiful young witch who stood before him. “Why didn’t you just…tell us?” He asked, looking down at her.  
Hermione shook her head and back away from him, rubbing her sore wrist.  
“Because she can’t talk to you. Both of you.” Remus answered for her.  
Sirius glanced up to James, to see him frowning in confusion. “Wait, what does this bracelet even do?” He asked.  
It was now that they all took a seat on James’ bed, Hermione and Remus sitting at one end, James and Sirius leaning against the headboard at the other. And Hermione began to tell them – well, Remus – what the bracelet did, and why she said those awful things.  
“My father was there, that day.” She said slowly, glancing up at Remus. “When I…said those awful things. He was in the shop over the road. So not only was this,” She played with her bracelet as she spoke “burning me, he was watching, waiting for me to muck up and talk to you. I would have gotten in trouble.” She bit her lip.  
“But not only that. I mean, I know I could’ve just ignored you, walked away, it would’ve been better than saying those awful things. But I heard him…talking to someone. In his office. Talking about keeping an eye on me, watching me, making sure I act like a proper pure-blood, or something. I have a really bad feeling that if I don’t…something will happen to me. Something bad.” She breathed out a small sigh and glanced over to the two boys sitting opposite her, before looking back at Remus to speak again.  
“I’m sorry. I really am. You don’t have to forgive me, I just want you to know how awful I feel about it.”  
The two sitting on the other side of the bed were quiet for a long time, taking in all the things she had said, before James spoke.  
“I forgive you, Mione.” He said gently, nudging her outstretched leg with his foot. When she glanced at him, she saw he was smiling very lightly.  
Sirius nodded slowly, along with James, and glanced at the girl. Things might be different, or strained between them all for a little while, but they would eventually get back to normal.  
“Me too, love. You’re forgiven. For now.” He smiled at her.  
“Now, about that bracelet…” He looked at Remus. “Only the person who put it on can take it off…” He sighed.  
“In the meantime we can flog something to heal her burns from the hospital wing, then.” Remus said.  
“But,” Sirius continued, smiling a little. “I’m sure there’s a spell to make it useless. I could sneak back to my parents’ house in the holidays, I’m sure there’ll be something in one of the books there.”  
“No! Sirius, it’s too dangerous!” Hermione objected, wincing a bit as her bracelet burned her.  
“Vixen, love, you go back to your father for Christmas like that and you’re screwed.” He said, looking at her.  
Hermione hesitated on responding. “Actually, I’m seeing him tomorrow, In Hogsmeade…” She whispered.  
Sirius rubbed his temples, as the other two muttered, “Tomorrow?” in surprise.  
“Right, then. We’ll get you some stuff to heal the wounds, and then…well, we’ll just have to wait and see what he does.” Sirius said quietly.  
The rest of the day was spent flogging a couple of vials of healing potion from the hospital wing, which they applied to Hermione’s wrist immediately, and sitting in each other’s company now that their group was whole once again.  
It was when the three boys were in the bathroom getting ready for bed that night when Hermione allowed herself to let her tears run, curled up on Sirius’ bed wearing one if James’ t-shirts and a pair of Remus’ pajama pants. She’d missed her marauders, so terribly, and she was so happy to be back where she belonged.  
“What’s the matter?” Sirius asked, sliding onto the bed beside her and resting his head beside hers on the pillow.  
“I- I’m just happy I guess.” She whispered, wiping at her eyes. “I know it’s silly. But these last couple of weeks have been so awful without you lot. I was going crazy.” She chuckled slightly, and glancing up at Sirius, only to see her own feelings reflected back in his eyes.  
“I know what you mean. It’s not silly, love. We were all pretty down in the dumps about it.” He said, rolling onto his back and looking up at the canopy above his bed. “I couldn’t believe you’d said those words. I was so upset, after everything that had happened, I thought you’d be there for me when I left my parents…it hurt so much when all you did was call we awful names and leave.”  
Hermione watched him out of the corner of here eye. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I would ever want to do to you.” She murmured, glancing at him.  
He nodded as she spoke, but stayed silent for a few moments. Glancing at her, he smiled slightly. “It’s all done and dusted now. No point in getting all mopey over it.” He murmured, reaching for the vial of healing potion under his pillow. He put a fresh dose on her wrists, before pulling the covers up over them both and curling up beside her. “Happy birthday, Mione.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair, before closing his eyes and trying to get some sleep.  
A very happy birthday indeed.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione tried her hardest not to cringe as she felt the watchful eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange burning into the back of her head. It had been years since that awful night at Malfoy Manor, but the sight of Bellatrix still made goose bumps rise all over her skin. She was better than she used to be, though. The first time she had seen Bellatrix after going back in time she had been shopping for school supplies with James, and her body had completely locked up and refused to move until she was out of sight. She still had the dreams occasionally. That was a trauma she would never forget, and she sensed that the presence of the truly frightful woman would always make her skin go cold.  
As they walked up the stairs Wilkes gripped her elbow quite tightly, reminding her not to make a sound, to only speak when she was spoken to. He had been reminding her all morning that this was a very important day, and that if she ruined it she was as good as dead. He hadn’t told her what was so important, but Hermione had a hunch. Today Hermione would be going to her first death eaters meeting. All summer, Wilkes had been keeping an eye on her, watching her every move and making sure that she was following all of his rules. Hermione had heard Wilkes say that he would start training her, but so far, the only things he had done was try and see into her mind once and twice during dinner. He wasn’t a very talented legilimens, so it was not hard for Hermione to block him with occlumency.  
As he had not done anything else to test her, or even mentioned anything about the dark lord to her, Hermione feared that she had failed and was being bought here to be disposed of. It was the only theory that fit the situation that she could come up with. Why would Wilkes bring her to a death eater meeting if he hadn’t told her the slightest thing about it before hand? She was definitely going to die.  
Bellatrix flicked her wand when they reached a set of double doors, and they swung open to reveal a dimly lit room with a long dining room table in the middle of the hard wood floor. The only light in the room came from the candle chandelier hanging from the ceiling right in the centre of the room above the table. Hermione had been expecting a Death Eater Meeting. But when she stepped into the room she could only see 2 other people sitting at one end of the table.  
“Have a seat. The dark lord will be with you shortly.” Bellatrix said from behind them, before the door swung shut with a loud slam, leaving the room in complete silence.  
Wilkes tugged on Hermione’s arm roughly as he walked towards the table, and Hermione and no choice but to follow her. It wasn’t like she could run away, anyway. For a moment she wondered what would happen to her if she ran out of the room. She knew it wouldn’t be pretty, seeing as Bellatrix was out there.  
“As I told you before, girl, this is a very important meeting. If you mess this up for me…we’re both dead. So keep your mouth shut, and don’t you dare move from this chair unless the Dark Lord tells you to. Understand?” Wilkes’ grip on her arm tightened, and Hermione knew there would be bruises the next day. She nodded silently, and his grip relaxed, but he didn’t let go until she was sitting in her seat.  
With a small grimace Hermione rubbed her elbow, but she didn’t dare look at Wilkes. Now that they were at the table Hermione could see the other two people at the table clearly. One was young woman, who couldn’t be much older than 22, maybe 23. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun on the crown of her head. Seeing a woman death eater, one would suspect them to be a Bellatrix twin, well personality wise. But this woman just looked frightened. Her lip was quivering slightly as she sat with her back uncomfortably straight and her hands clenched in her lap. Beside her sat a chubby, dark haired boy who looked just as anxious as she did, and kept glancing over in the direction of the door where Bellatrix had been standing moments earlier. Hermione realised this to be one of the boys that Voldemort had been talking about when he was speaking to Wilkes at the start of the summer. But where was the second one?  
The air was thick with tension as they waited for the doors to open and the Dark Lord to enter the room, and when the double doors finally burst open everyone seemed to jump, and the woman sitting across from Hermione seemed to go rigid with fear as she looked behind Hermione. Hermione couldn’t help herself. She glanced behind her to see a tall man with dark hair and light eyes walking across the hard wooden floors, his pure black robes flying behind him. She could see why Bellatrix was so obsessed with him. Apart from his good looks, which most girls would find attractive, his body radiated pure evil, which of course was something that Bellatrix was into.  
Hermione didn’t find him attractive at all. Maybe it was just because she knew everything that he was capable of, because she’d seen him kill, seen her friends die at his hand. But the sight of him made Hermione’s blood run cold.  
He made no sound as he walked towards the table, seeming to glide across the hard wood floors effortlessly, his bare feet. As he sat down at the head of the table his eyes flicked over the four of them, taking them in silently.  
“Wilkes,” He greeted coldly, before glancing at the woman. “Mrs. Rosier, you must be here on behalf of your husband.”  
The woman nodded, gulping slightly as she looked at the dark lord, her hands shaking in her lap. Voldemort seemed pleased with this, and leaned back in his seat at the head of the table.  
“And you must be Hermione.” His cold eyes found Hermione, and she tried her hardest not to show her fear if him.  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“I’ve heard from your father that you passed all your OWLs with outstanding. That’s impressive.” Those eyes, hard and intruding stayed glued to Hermione, making Hermione feel sick and uneasy.  
“Hermione is very dedicated to her studies, My Lord.” Wilkes said from beside Hermione.  
Voldemort sent Wilkes a cold look, before looking back at Hermione. “Your father has also told me that you are quite obedient.”  
Hermione glanced at Wilkes, gulping a little bit as she nodded silently.  
Across from her, Mrs. Rosier tensed up as a soft hissing sound came from under the table. Hermione swore she felt something brush up against her legs, but as she went to pull her legs up under her Wilkes grabbed her arm and shot her a look while muttering, “Manners, girl!”  
She couldn’t help the small shiver that ran up her spine as a large snake appeared from under the table and curled around Voldemort’s neck, hissing quietly in his ear.  
Voldemort ran his long finger over the snakes scales as he stared at Hermione, an evil looking smile on his face.  
“What do you think about blood purity, Hermione?” He asked, titling his head as he watched for her reaction.  
Hermione had assumed that this question would come at one time or another, so she had been prepared with an answer.  
“I don’t really have contact with any mudbloods, Sir.” She began, ignoring the guilty clench in her stomach at using that awful word. “Growing up with the Potter’s, I used to be indifferent, not really having an opinion on the matter. Since I started Hogwarts I’ve been sharing a dorm room with the same 5 girls, one of which is a mudblood. For those three years she has been unbelievably rude to me, thinking she was better than me, treating me, and also my friends like crap because I’m smarter than her, because I got chosen to become a prefect and she didn’t.” She raised her chin, turning up her nose slightly in the way she had seen Bellatrix do earlier when she opened the door to let them in. “I’d do anything to put her in her place. I’m sick of how she treats me.”  
Voldemort’s lips turned up into an ugly, but pleased smile at her words. “You’ll have your chance, trust me.”  
Hermione felt so very guilty at her own words, and clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm. Yes, Lily wasn’t the kindest to her. But she didn’t want to hurt her, that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to protect Lily, save her from the horrible fate that happened in her timeline.  
“I must ask, Hermione. Do you know who I am?”  
Hermione nodded slowly. “You’re the Dark Lord.” She said quietly.  
“And how did you know that?”  
“Sirius is always going on about how much he hates his cousin – Bellatrix – and how she’s one of your servants.” Hermione said. “When I saw her earlier, and you asked me about blood purity, I just put the pieces together.”  
Voldemort’s unpleasant smile only seemed to grow on his face. “Clever girl.” He said, his voice soft, but equally as terrifying. His gaze turned to the boy then, the smile dropping from his face.  
“And you, you must be Daniel.”  
The boy trembled slightly as he nodded. “Y-Yes, Sir.”  
“And your thoughts on Blood Purity?”  
“K-Kill all the mudbloods, Sir.” He said with a small squeak.  
Voldemort looked over the boy for a moment, before his eyes flicked away, dismissing him. He had no complaints, but he didn’t impress him as much as Hermione did.  
“You may be wondering what you’re both doing here.” He said after a moment, folding his fingers on the table, his long nails tapping on the table. “For a while, I have been in need of…spies. To watch someone for me. Someone who is at Hogwarts.” He tapped his nails against the table.  
“And who will suspect students like you? Such…innocent and promising students.” He looked at Hermione while he spoke.  
“I’ve long since suspected that Albus Dumbledore was moving against me, creating an army of his own as I am creating mine. And I need someone to watch him, report back on his every move inside the Hogwarts walls. That falls to the two of you.” He looked between them.  
“Daniel, you are a Hufflepuff, are you not?”  
Daniel nodded, gulping.  
“And Hermione- Gryffindor?”  
Hermione nodded, her fingernails pinching into the palm of her hand.  
“Good, good. He’ll have a lot of trust in you, then. And being a prefect, do you talk with him often?” He asked.  
“Well- somewhat.” She nodded gingerly. It wasn’t because she was a prefect at all, but because he knew of her mission, they spoke sometimes. It would probably be a lot more now that Voldemort was trying to recruit her.  
“Excellent. If he seems suspicious, I want you to tell Wilkes straight away.”  
“Of course, My Lord.” She bowed her head slightly, her eyes going to her hands in her lap.  
“You know, there were originally three of you I had picked for this job.” Voldemort stated, leaning back in his seat, a malicious smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  
“I had also picked another boy named Gilbert. But he was a handful. He was very disobedient, and in the end tried to visit the Wizengamot to inform them of his new parents being loyal to me.” He gave a cold chuckle.  
“I couldn’t have this boy running around, ruining things for me. So he had to be…taken care of.” With a flick of his wand, a large object fell from the roof and landed on the table in front of them, making Mrs. Rosier shriek with fright.  
Hermione froze in her chair as her eyes raked over the object. At first glance, it could be mistaken for a pig in rags, it was very dirty and it’s skin was a raw pink colour. But at second, Hermione identified it as a dead human, most probably this Gilbert boy. His skin had been beaten raw, skin stripped off in places. And he was most certainly dead.  
“Nagini, eat.” Voldemort whispered to the snake around his neck, and Hermione looked away as the snake slithered onto the table towards the body. She couldn’t watch. It felt like she was going to throw up just hearing the snake devour the boy.  
Voldemort was trying to force them to remain loyal to him by scaring them. This was what would happen to them if they disobeyed him, if they traded sides, if they so much as let slip what they were doing to their friends they would be discarded, eaten by a giant snake.  
“You may leave.” Voldemort flicked his wrist, and the doors across from them swung open. Mrs. Rosier and Daniel leapt from their chairs, scurrying from the room as fast as they could. Hermione and Wilkes followed, standing from their seats and slowly walking from the room.  
“Hermione, stay behind for a moment.”  
Hermione almost groaned as she paused in her steps, glancing to Wilkes for conformation. Her father narrowed his eyes at her, but nodded, giving her a shove back in the direction where Voldemort was sitting. She knew from the look in his eyes that if she took a step out of line and embarrassed him, she would be punished.  
“Yes, My Lord?” Hermione asked, wringing her hands behind her back.  
“I need you to do something else for me.” He said, his cold eyes staring straight into hers.  
“Of course. What do you need from me?” She asked instantly.  
“Next time you’re in Dumbledore’s office, I need you to steal something for me.”  
“What is it you want me to take?”  
“I need you to steal the Sword of Gryffindor, and bring it to me.”


	15. Chapter 15

““So Lord Voldemort has recruited you.” Dumbledore said, his eyes solemn as he looked at the young girl sitting before him at his desk. But he knew that Hermione wasn’t young. She may have looked it, but he knew the truth. And he could see it in her eyes. Her experiences, everything she had seen reflected in her eyes, showing him the truth. She had seen more than a 16 year old should, even more than a 21 year old should, as he knew that this was her real age.  
Hermione had just finished relaying her first encounter with The Dark Lord since coming back in time. He had been expecting that she would encounter him one day soon, as it was her mission to defeat him, but he had not expected that it would be so soon, that he would entrust such young children to do his dirty work.  
“Well, sort of.” Hermione nodded. “He hasn’t given either of us the mark, I’m not even sure if he trusts us yet. Surely not, he’s only just met us.” Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her curls, furrowing her brows.  
“I think this is a test. To try and get close to you, get information off of you, steal the sword, and report back to him. If I succeed- I might move up the ranks. If not, he’ll probably kill me. He has no other use for me. He has plenty of other Death Eaters at his disposal.  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the name Hermione gave Voldemort’s disciples. He knew it must be what they had called them from Hermione’s original timeline, but he had only ever heard Hermione call them this. He knew that Voldemort called them his knights.  
“But, Sir, what do you think he plans to do with the Sword of Gryffindor?” Hermione asked, looking up at the older man sitting before her.  
“My dear, I fear that he plans to do the worst with it.” Dumbledore answered with a soft from and a sigh.  
“You mean, he might try to make it a horcrux? But why would he do that, he’s the heir of Slytherin. He hates Gryffindor, doesn’t he?”  
“He hates some from Gryffindor, yes. But not all, because some ex-Gryffndors so follow his régime.” Dumbledore reminded her. “Not all Gryffindors are good, Miss Potter. You of all people should know that, having lived through a war already.” He still called her Miss Potter, even though her last name had officially changed to Wilkes.  
“Yes, I know…” She sighed.  
“Hogwarts was Tom’s home. He has already made three horcruxes from items that used to belong to the house founders. It would not surprise me if he tried to make a horcrux from the sword. You said that he wanted to split is soul into 7 pieces?”  
“Yes, the diary, the ring, the locket, the diadem, the cup, nagini and then the seventh.” She confirmed. “But Sir, he made the 7th accidentally when committing murder. And that wasn’t until the end of the first wizarding war…I don’t think he’s making another horcrux. He could be doing something far more evil.” She stated.  
Hermione hadn’t heard of the sword of Gryffindor being stolen in her timeline, except by Ginny and the others while Harry, Hermione and Ron had been hunting Horcruxes. The sword could only be pulled out of the hat by a true Gryffindor who was in need of it, and of course, Gryffindors who followed Voldemort’s régime weren’t true Gryffindors, so this explained why they hadn’t stolen it. But what was he planning to do with it?  
“May I?” Hermione asked, gesturing to the sorting hat which sat beside Dumbledore on his desk.  
“Of course, my dear.” Dumbledore nodded, smiling gently at her.  
Hermione picked up the hat and peered inside, sighing a little bit. “He expects me to bring it to him, but should I? We don’t know what he’s planning to do with it…” She sighed again when no sword appeared and placed the hat back down.  
“Hermione, I’m afraid I must ask something great of you…” Dumbledore said sadly, looking at her over his half-moon spectacles. “You know how dangerous this mission could be, and now that Voldemort has recruited you, even more so. I need you to do whatever it takes to move up the ranks. Whatever he asks of you, you must do it. That includes bringing him this sword.” He said. “Although I am not quite sure how we are going to get it out of the hat…” Dumbledore pursed his lips in thought, before waving his wand, creating a replica of the hat, passing her the real one. “Carry it with you for the remainder of the year, one day, when you are in need of it, it may present itself to you. If Voldemort asked, you stole the hat and replicated it, and are going to return the hat to its spot once you have the sword.”  
Hermione breathed out slowly, taking the hat and slipping it into her bag. “I figured I would have to become a death eater someday, Sir.” She murmured. “I only hope he doesn’t find out my secret. It’s been hard enough sneaking around Wilkes.” She shook her head, then looked at the man in front of her. “I can’t promise I won’t get found out, Sir. I’m awful at occlumency…he’s sure to read my mind one day.”  
“I will teach you, Miss Potter, do not worry.”  
“Thank you, sir.” She breathed. “But just in case…” Hermione delved inside of her bag, and pulled out a jewelry box, presenting it to him. “If I get caught, or killed…it is of the most importance that you give this to the boys for me. It’s…well my back up plan.” She bit her lip.  
Dumbledore took the box from her and slipped it into one of his drawers, not even asking what it was. “Of course. I’ll deliver it to him for you, and if anything happens to me, Minerva will be told to pass it onto them as well.”  
“Thank you Sir.”

“Now, we’d better get on with your lessons.”

___________________________________________________

 

“She’s exhausted.” Remus muttered to Sirius as they looked over at the girl lying across the sofa with her head in James’ lap, her wild and unruly hair spread out around her head like a halo. Boris sat on her feet, though he wasn’t sleeping, merely staring at Sirius across from him with an evil look. Her eyes were closed, and at first glance she seemed to be sleeping, but every now and then her lips would move as she muttered something to her brother, showing that she was awake.  
Sirius grunted in annoyance at the fur ball and turned his attention back to the girl, nodding in agreement to Remus’ statement. “She said she’s been studying like mad. I don’t see why. Exams aren’t for a mile off.”  
“You know Hermione. Studying isn’t just for grades. She actually likes to learn.”  
“Sometimes I think that she feeds from knowledge like some sort of hybrid.” Sirius joked with a small snort. “Makes sense, though. She doesn’t eat much these days, and she seems to go through withdrawals when she doesn’t read for a couple of days.”  
The two boys laughed quietly, and Remus rolled his eyes at the poor joke.  
“I heard that.” Hermione voiced from her spot on the couch with her brother, opening one of her chocolate brown eyes lazily, and turning it on them.  
Sirius grinned at her and moved from his spot on the arm chair opposite her, plopping himself down on the floor beside her head, far away from Boris, who was watching him with a waving tail.  
“Sorry, Love. But it’s true. You’re some kind of book-human hybrid.” He teased her, curling a strand of her hair around one of his fingers.  
“Of course I am, Sirius. Because that is even possible, for books to procreate.” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes before they fell closed again.  
“You never know what books get up to in their spear time, Vix.” He grinned and gave her hair a playful tug, before leaning the back if his head against her arm, looking up at the ceiling.  
“How’s it feeling?” Remus asked as he took a seat beside Sirius, glancing at Hermione’s wrist as she fiddled with the bracelet.  
“How do you think its feeling?” Sirius asked him, his voice oozing with sarcasm.  
Remus shot him a look.  
“It’s fine.” Hermione lied, rubbing at it as she spoke.  
“Liar.” Sirius stated, as James pulled her hand away from it.  
“Stop playing with it, you’ll only make it worse.” He muttered to her, then glanced at Sirius and Remus.  
“Have you found anything in that book yet about how to stop the burning?”  
Remus shook his head slowly. “There’s nothing in it about burning bracelets…but I’ll keep looking. There’s got to be something somewhere.”  
Sirius thinned his lips together, staring at the roof. He was considering taking a trip back to Grimmauld place at Christmas, if they hadn’t found a solution by then. He was sure they’d be book on the mysterious bracelet somewhere in the Black Family library.  
“Why don’t you just…run away?” James asked her. “Mum and Dad would take you in, just as they have for Sirius.”  
Hermione shook her head, sitting up. “I…I can’t. Wilkes is the only one who can take this off me, because he was the one who put it on me…” She shook her head again. “I need some air. I’ll see you lot at dinner.” She scooped up Boris and held him to her chest as she walked out the portrait hole.  
She would have nowhere to go if she ran away. The Potter’s didn’t want her, did they? Because they could have taken her in ages ago…instead she got adopted by Wilkes. And she couldn’t run away now that she was being recruited by Voldemort. She had a mission to complete.


	16. Chapter 16

“I’m here to see Mr. Wilkes.” Hermione breathed to the innkeeper as she approached the bar in the run down café on the edge of the small wizarding village. Her hair was an absolute mess from the wind, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. December was well and truly here and Christmas was on its way, with the arrival of a mass dumping of snow overnight, and it was still falling steadily outside.  
The innkeeper looked up at Hermione as she spoke; taking a moment to recognize that ‘Mr. Wilkes’ was the man in the backroom. “Oh! Of course, miss, let me take your cloak, and then I’ll direct you to Mr. Wilkes. He’s been waiting for you for half an hour.”  
Hermione rolled her eyes slightly at hearing he had been there half an hour already. Of course he had been. Even though Hermione was early for their meeting, he would arrive so much earlier that she would, so he wasn’t late. As the innkeeper went to take her cloak, Hermione clutched it around her. “Do you mind if I keep it on? It’s quite chilly today.”  
“Of course, of course. Let me show you to the back room, then.” He gushed, hurriedly moving back behind the bar, waving Hermione to follow him. “This way, Miss.”  
Hermione followed his anxiously, slipping her gloves off and wiggling her fingers, which were a little stiff from the cold. She had taken one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade that day, instead of taking the carriages with her friends. She hadn’t wanted to risk Wilkes seeing her with the boys, even though the café was all the way at the other end of Hogsmeade. But he was always watching. There were spies everywhere, even at Hogwarts.  
The innkeeper held open the door to the back door open wide for Hermione to enter, showing the man sitting at the small table in front of the fire. Hermione strode in after a moment of hesitance, which Wilkes didn’t see, luckily for her. He was facing the fireplace, his hands tapping on the hard wooden table in front of him impatiently.  
As Hermione sunk into the chair across from him and unwound the scarf from her neck, folding it on her lap, the innkeeper approached Wilkes uncertainly. “Is there anything I can get you, Sir?”  
Wilkes looked up at the man with a sneer, nodding his head towards Hermione. “Are you going to take her cloak?” He demanded. As the man stammered, glancing at Hermione uncertainly at her father’s request when she had asked to keep the cloak on. “Honestly, the help aren’t trained well enough for how much they’re paid these days.” He looked at the man in disgust and flicked his hand, dismissing him. He paid him no more attention, his eyes going to Hermione. “Take your cloak off, girl. I’ve told you before that we don’t wear such clothes at the table.”  
Hermione held in her sigh as she slipped out of her cloak and folded it across her lap along with her scarf and gloves.  
Wilkes gave a small nod of approval and looked at his adopted daughter right in the eyes for a few silent moments. Those moments always felt like forever to Hermione. It seemed like he was looking into her soul, finding out her darkest secrets. She was scared that he would see right through her mask and find her out.  
“Give me your arm.” He said after a moment, holding out his hand, like it was an object she could just hand over to him.  
Hermione bit on the inside of her cheek nervously, but looked down at her arm and rolled up her long sleeve to expose her wrist and the bracelet that trapped her. Wilkes closed his fingers around her arm just below the bracelet and pulled it closer to him so he could inspect her wrist.  
There were no scars, thanks to Sirius, James and Remus and their constant application of the healing salve when she was around them, including that morning before she left for Hogsmeade. She counted herself lucky to have a group of friends the truly cared for her. Especially after what she said to James and Sirius awhile back. She loved her marauders so dearly; she couldn’t bare it if they were still mad at her.  
“So you haven’t been talking to your blood traitor friends?” Wilkes asked, flicking his eyes up at his adopted daughter.  
“No, Sir.” Hermione said, looking him straight in the eyes, her gaze never faltering. She hoped her lie was convincing.  
He held her gaze for a moment, before he nodded, convinced, and with a flick of his wand, the bracelet was gone.  
Hermione almost gasped with relief, and she pulled her hand back to rub the sensitive skin on her wrist, now bare and free from the burning hell he had put her through.  
“The Dark Lord thinks it is time for you to become friends with them again, so you seem more…innocent. So nobody suspects you.” He stated simply. “So fix things with them. Do whatever it takes to gain their trust again.”  
Hermione nodded slowly. “Of course, father. I’ll do whatever it takes.”  
He nodded again in approval, leaning back into his seat. “Have you gotten anywhere with Dumbledore, or the sword?” He asked.  
“I haven’t gained any information from Dumbledore yet…but I will keep trying, Sir…”  
“You better. I will not be pleased if that other boy does before you.” He sneered, his face twisting up in disgust. “And I am telling you, the Dark Lord will not be pleased either. He will be….very disappointed.”  
Hermione nodded, gulping. She got the message loud and clear. There would be consequences if the Dark Lord was not pleased.  
“I have, however, got somewhere with the sword.” She stated. “I am very close to getting it.”  
“Good.” Wilkes nodded slowly, folding his fingers together. “The Dark Lord is not a patient man. He wants that sword, and soon.”  
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get it, father. As soon as I can.”

Remus glanced up from his glass of butter beer as he heard a bell chime, signaling the entrance of another customer to the three broomsticks. It was quite a busy day, so the sound did not surprise him. It was packed to the brim with senior students who were out buy Christmas presents with their friends, and couples out of snow day dates. The marauders sat in their usual booth at the back of the room, minus one member. Until Remus saw a head of bushy brown hair standing at the front, her eyes scanning the room for her three best friends.  
Her lips stretched to show off her pearly whites as she grinned at her best friend, and Remus mirrored her smile, standing up to wave her over so she could slide into the booth opposite her brother, her usual spot when they visited the three broomsticks.  
“Vix!” James called as he spotted her walking through the crowd. She was hard to miss really, what with her busy curls, messy from the wind.  
Sirius, hearing the other two call their hellos, looked over his shoulder and grinned widely at their only close female friend, shouting louder than the other two had. “Look what the cat dragged in!” he yelled, with a very obvious wink at the intended pun.  
Hermione rolled her eyes at the silly joke as she slid into the booth opposite the two jokers of their group, crossing her legs. She accepted the butterbeer James slid her and took a small sip. “Thanks.” She breathed, closing her eyes as she savoured the taste and the warm feeling that filled her from the warm drink.  
“What brings you here today, kitty-cat?” Sirius asked, grinned at her as she slipped off her gloves and scarf, but kept her cloak firmly around her.  
Hermione held the warm glass in both hands, letting the warm liquid inside warm her fingers. As she held it, she glanced around, looking for anyone she suspected to be spying on her. When she spotted nobody she turned back to the boys with a smile. “He took it off.” She breathed.  
“Really?” Remus asked surprised, as James reached for her wrist, lifting up the sleeve to look for any signs of the bracelet remaining.  
Hermione nodded, leaning down to sip at the glass again, her top lip getting covered in a little bit of the froth, which she instantly licked off.  
“Yeah. He said something about proving my obedience, and that I earned my freedom, for now.” She smiled at her friends.  
“Obedience? He did all of that to you for obedience?” Remus asked with a frown.  
Sirius shook his head with a small snort. “Stupid pureblood families.” He muttered. “They’re all about obedience.”  
James nodded his head in agreement. “Even the Potter’s are about it, but they don’t take it to that extremes. They use love, and kindness instead of torture.” He let go of Hermione’s wrist when he was satisfied there wasn’t an invisible bracelet there.  
“He didn’t give you anything else, did he? Necklace, earrings? Rings?” He questioned.  
Hermione shook her head, her smile growing. “No, I’m free, James. No other burning jewelry.”  
“So does that mean you’d be able to come over for Christmas?” He asked excitedly.  
At Hermione’s hesitance, Sirius groaned. “Oh, come on, Mione! It’s not going to be the same without you. Even Moony’s coming for a couple of days, for that stupid Christmas party the Potter’s always host. Come on, say you’ll come.”  
“You know Mum and Dad would love to have you.” James added. “They love you, Vix.”  
Hermione hesitated again, looking down into the frothy liquid in her cup. She wasn’t sure. Did the Potter’s really love her? It didn’t seem like it, especially seeing as they gave her away to the first person that was willing to adopt her. Would it be the same as always at the Potter mansion? Or would she make things awkward.  
“I’ll ask.” She said eventually, glancing up at the two sitting across from her, giving a small, nervous smile.  
James and Sirius whooped loudly together, and Hermione and Remus shared a look, laughing at their friends’ stupidity. It was just like old times again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Here’s what people have been asking for: why the Potter’s didn’t adopt Hermione. I hope you like the chapter. Please review and follow!

Hermione’s attention was dragged from her book when she felt the bed sway underneath her, and she looked up to find stormy eyes staring down at her, the all too familiar glint of mischief shining brightly.   
“Care to make a wager, Kitten?”  
They had arrived at the Potter Mansion for Christmas break three days ago, and Hermione had been doing everything she could to avoid being in a room alone with James’ parents. For the whole time she had been there, she had felt as if she were intruding on a family event. Even Remus looked to be enjoying himself more than Hermione. Everyone noticed how reserved she was while around Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and it was beginning to upset James, who had always considered her to be his sister.  
Christmas time had always been Hermione’s favourite holiday, and she had used to love Christmas at the Potters’. They had always been so loving, so kind to her. When they arrived home they always decorated the tree together, and Hermione usually got the honour of putting the star on the top. This year Hermione had said that the honour should go to Remus, as the guest, which Remus had accepted noticing how awkward his best friend was feeling.   
On Christmas Eve they had the annual Christmas party, which Hermione usually spent tagging behind James while they spoke to Mr. Potter’s employee’s children and played proper purebloods for an evening. It wasn’t so bad when James was there with her. It was tomorrow evening, and Mrs. Potter had been setting up the ballroom for the event, making sure everything was perfect for the past two days. This year Sirius and Remus would be there as well, so Hermione was hoping to enjoy herself.   
On Christmas Day they usually woke each other up early and raced down to open their presents, and spent the day pigging out on food cooked by Mrs. Potter, snuggling up in the living room with cups of cocoa, and enjoying each other’s company. This was the one day of the year that the Potters’ spoiled their children rotten.   
But remembering this made Hermione upset. She tried not to show it, but being in the house where she had so many happy memories, and then remembering that Mr. and Mrs. Potter to just give her away to the first person willing to adopt her, made it hard for Hermione to be around them. She loved them like there were her own parents, in fact, she had considered them just that before she got adopted.   
“What kind of wager?” Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow as Sirius splayed himself on the bed beside her, lying on his stomach.   
“Does it involve money?” she questioned.   
“No, but it does involve confectionary, which we know you like.” Remus piped up from the doorway, where he and James stood.   
Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the three boys she cared for most in this world, and James snickered into his hand at her look.   
“Alright, what is it, then?” She asked, shutting her book with a bang and setting it aside on her bed. She may have been bookworm, knowledge-hungry, know it all Hermione (at least she could admit it) but she was always up to a challenge, and she hardly ever (if not never) gave up on a bet or dare set to her by these boys.  
“I bet you,” Sirius began with a smirk, turning onto his side and leaning his head on his elbow. “That you can’t eat this without throwing up.” He lifted up his hand, and between his forefinger and his thumb he held half of a jelly bean, that was a deep brown in colour.   
“What flavour is it?” Hermione asked hesitantly, but reached out her hand to take it for him nonetheless.   
“Can’t tell you that.” Sirius said with a shrug. “Then you’d know and wouldn’t want to eat it.”  
“So it’s really disgusting, then?”   
“Don’t know.” Sirius shrugged and laid back on the bed, glancing over at the two in the doorway who were grinning like Cheshire Cat.   
“What do I get if I can?” Hermione queried as she rolled the little jelly bean between her fingers. It looked like it had been half eaten.   
“You can have the rest of my Bertie Bot’s.”   
“And what happens if I can’t, then?”   
“Hmm…” Sirius stroked his chin, pretending to stroke his invisible beard, and pursing his lips while he thought. “You have to do something for me.”  
“And that something is?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.   
Sirius gave another shrug. “Don’t know. Haven’t decided yet.”  
“Are you going to do it or not, Vix?” James questioned from the doorway.  
“Of course she is.” Remus grinned. “Don’t you know Hermione at all? She never turns down a challenge from us.”  
Hermione gave a sigh, knowing that the jelly bean would be awful. She took a deep breath, trying to prepare her stomach for the awful taste she knew was about to come. She popped the jelly bean in her mouth, chewing slowly. Her eyes almost popped out of her head when she tasted it.   
“Ugh!” She cried, clamping a hand over her mouth. “  
Sirius and James burst into loud laughter at her reaction, and Sirius pulled the packet out of his pocket for her to see. “Shit.” He said through his laughter.   
Hermione spat out the jelly bean, raking her hands over her tongue. “Why would they make that flavour?!” She demanded.   
“It’s the limited edition packet, they have one in each. We’ve been trying to find it all afternoon.” Sirius laughed.   
Hermione spent the next few minutes cleaning out her mouth thoroughly in the bathroom, brushing her teeth twice and gurgling water to get rid of the taste.   
When she returned to the boys, they were still grinning at her reaction to the jelly bean.   
“And now, you have to do something for me.” Sirius said simply, smiling and beginning to play with her curls again.   
“That was cheating. Nobody could possibly swallow that.” Hermione protested.   
“You made a bet, Vix. And you couldn’t fulfil it.” James reminded her, sitting on the edge of her bed.   
She grumbled, crossing her arms and going silent for a few minutes.  
“Did Sirius eat the other half?” Hermione questioned after a moment.  
“How did you know?” James asked curiously, confirming her thoughts.  
“Dogs often eat their own, and other peoples poo.” Hermione glanced at Sirius with a smirk on her face, not looking unlike her brother in that moment, even though they weren’t technically related. “So I just assumed it was you, Sirius, because you’re a dirty dog.”  
The look on Sirius’ face was priceless, and as their friends began to laugh and Hermione snickered into her hands at her own joke, Sirius gave her a playful push. “I’m gunna get you for that, love. Just you wait.”

“Hermione?” There was a quiet knock at the door and for the second time that day Hermione looked up from her book to see that someone was in the doorway, waiting for permission to enter. She had been expecting it to be one of the boys, but when she saw that Mrs. Potter stood in the doorway in front of her husband, her eyes showing her hesitance at entering, she bit her lip. “Can we come in?”   
Hermione hesitated only a second before nodding. “Of course Mrs. Potter. Come on in.” Hermione murmured, setting her book to the side and sitting up straight, leaning against the headboard of her bed.   
Mrs. Potter nodded and gave Hermione a genuine smile as she entered the room and took a seat in front of Hermione on the bed. Mr. Potter walked in behind her, carrying a large box in his arms. He shut the door behind him and placed the box on the end of the bed, before taking his place beside his wife on the end of the bed.   
“Hermione, dear, we know that you were very hesitant to join us for Christmas this year.” Mrs. Potter began, her voice gentle.   
Hermione opened her mouth to object but Mr. Potter shook his head, interrupting her. “You don’t have to lie to us, darling. James told us that you were very hesitant in asking your father for permission to join us.” He said, his voice equally as soft as his wife’s.   
With another moment of hesitance Hermione nodded, her eyes farting down to her hands, which she was clasping in her lap. “I…I was, a little…” She admitted.   
They both nodded, and Mr. Potter took his wife’s hand, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin soothingly. Mrs. Potter seemed to be very upset, and at second glance, Hermione noticed that she looked ill. Her face was very pale, and she had dark bags under her eyes. Her hair also seemed to be twice as grey as she remembered it to be.  
“We can only guess why.” She said, her eyes never moving from the young girl sitting across from her. “Hermione, we love you very much. We never wanted to give you away, but it we had to choice.”   
“You-you love me?” Hermione almost croaked as she spoke, sniffling slightly as she looked up at the two of them.   
“Like you were created of the both of us.” Mr. Potter answered easily, reaching across to touch his fingers to her cheek. “We’ve always thought of you as our daughter, Hermione.”   
Hermione was trying to keep her tears down. She had always been a very emotional person, upset easily, and right now she was so incredibly happy to hear that someone loved her like a daughter.   
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mrs. Potter breathed, scooting forward to wrap her arms around their daughter.   
“I’m alright, I’m just…” Hermione sniffled. “I’m just happy, is all.”   
Mrs. Potter’s hands smoothed and played with Hermione’s hair, knowing she liked her hair played with.   
“We love you, Hermione. We never wanted to give you away. We wanted to adopt you officially.” Mr. Potter continued, his hand finding her back, rubbing it soothingly.   
“Then…why did you?” Hermione asked, wiping her eyes, not being able to stop herself from asking.  
There was a moment of silence, and then Mrs. Potter pulled away and took both of Hermione’s hands.   
“Hermione…I’m sick.” She said slowly. “I have an illness…something that they can’t cure.”  
Hermione flinched slightly at the news, and her eyes widened. “What kind of illness?”   
“A terminal illness, Hermione.” The older woman answered as softly as she could, holding her hands tightly. “They’re giving me treatment for it, and it is slowing it down. But they’ve told me that I will eventually die from it.”  
Hermione was silent for a moment, in shock from the news. Mrs. Potter took this opportunity to continue talking. Behind her, Mr. Potter was very quiet, not liking to discuss something he couldn’t stop from happening.   
“This is why we couldn’t adopt you, Hermione. Well…we could have. But I didn’t want to make another child lose their mother. It’s bad enough that James will lose his mother. I couldn’t do that to you, Hermione. After losing a family already…” Her eyes were sad as she spoke, watching as Hermione started to cry again. “I wanted you to have a family, a whole family. With nobody dying around you.”  
Hermione curled into Mrs. Potter, crying gently into her curls. “I love you, Mum.” It was the first time she’d called her that, not knowing what she would think of it. But now she wanted her to know just how deeply she cared for her.   
Mr. Potter scooted up behind them and wrapped his arm around both of them. The three sat there like that until Hermione curled down, and when she finally pulled away, her eyes red and puffy, she wiped her eyes.   
“You will always be welcome here, Hermione. Always.” Mrs. Potter said, brushing her thumb over the young girl’s cheek. “Remember that. Whenever you need us, whatever you need us for, we will be there for you.”   
Hermione nodded and rubbed her eyes again, pushing her wild curls out of her eyes. “How long do you have?” She asked quietly.  
“We’ve been told that they think I have around 8 months, maybe more, maybe less.” Mrs. Potter said gently.   
Hermione nodded again, looking up into her eyes. “Does James know?”  
Mrs. Potter shook her head slowly, glancing at her husband. “We were going to break it to you both, and Sirius, before you went back to school. But we thought we needed to explain it to you first…to explain.”  
Hermione nodded her head, looking between the two. When she spotted the box at the end of her bed, and bit her lip. “What’s that?” She asked curiously.  
Mrs. Potter smiled nervously then, and turned towards the box. “Charlus?” She asked.  
Mr. Potter reached for the box and picked it up, before gently placing it on his wife’s lap.   
“We have…a few early presents for you. For tomorrow night.” Mrs. Potter explained, nervously tapping her fingers on top of the box. It seemed dusty, like it had been stored at the back of the closet for a long time.   
“For the party?” Hermione asked, confused.   
“Yes…you know the Potter’s are a very old pureblood family…you’ve been to our parties before, you know some of the traditions we keep up with.”  
Mr. Potter squeezed his wife’s shoulder encouragingly. With a nervous smile, Mrs. Potter handed the box over to Hermione.   
Hermione hesitantly opened the box, and froze at what she saw.   
The dress was a beautiful teal blue in colour, with a row of cute bows in the same colour down the front, and a small amount of white ruffle around the neck line. From the looks of it, it looked to be old fashioned, to be worn with a corset. She knew much of the wizarding world was still very old fashioned, so she wasn’t surprised.   
“It is traditional in a pureblood household for a daughter to…come out when she comes of age. It is also traditional for her to wear a dress that was passed down from mother to daughter….I know that it isn’t exactly right for us to do so as you’ve been adopted…but we picked this out for you when we first took you in, and we’ve been saving it for you ever since.” Mrs. Potter said quietly as Hermione stared at the dress. This was their way of showing Hermione how much they loved her; how they cared for her like she was their own. They also knew that not having an adoptive mother she would most likely not have anyone to give her a dress and present her to the public like they would. “We love you very much, Hermione. And we would understand if you didn’t want to wear it…”  
Hermione stared at the dress for a moment, before looking up at Mr. and Mrs. Potter, her eyes filled with love. “I love it.” She said honestly. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She leaned and captured both of them in a hug.   
“It’s something you can pass on to your daughter, as well.” Mrs. Potter gushed, hugging her tightly.   
If I’m even alive when I finish my mission…  
“Thank you, so much.” Hermione breathed.   
Mr. Potter cleared his throat and Hermione pulled away, looking at him.   
“We also have a few more gifts for you. Consider them belated birthday presents. We wanted to give you them in person.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two boxes: one was long and oblong, the other square, a ring box.   
Hermione took them from him, her breath hitching in her throat. In the oblong box lay a necklace with two rows of pearls. The ring box held a vintage ring set with a sapphire.  
“They go with the dress.” Mr. Potter explained, smiling at her. “They’re Potter heirlooms. We wanted you to have them.”   
“You…but I’m not a Potter.” Hermione said weakly, staring at them.  
“Maybe not, but you are our daughter. We wanted you to have them, Hermione.”   
Hermione looked up from the jewelry and hugged her parents again. “I love you, Dad, Mum. Thank you.”   
He kissed her head, and held her close, while Mrs. Potter wrapped them both in a hug. “We love you too, sweetheart.”


	18. Chapter 18

A/N Okay this took me an awfully long time to write. And over half of this stuff doesn’t even matter. It’s all just gibberish. I just kind of wanted to set the scene. But don’t worry that’s not all there is; it’s the first of two parts. The second will be a lot more exciting, promise.   
“Just a bit tighter, Hermione.” Mrs. Potter promised her daughter as she stood behind her daughter, lacing up the corset that was attached to the dress she had gifted her with the day earlier.   
Hermione held her breath and braced one hand on the wall, the other on the dresser beside her as she nodded in reply to her mother’s statement. She was afraid that if she spoke, it would give away how ill she felt. Her cheeks were flushed red from trying to suck in her stomach, and now that the corset was almost fully tightened she was having a hard time breathing. Mrs. Potter had warned her before helping her into the dress that she would feel this way at first, not being used to how tight it was, but she promised that she would get used to it in time.  
Hermione had been scared about this moment all day, especially with Sirius nagging her every five minutes about what her dress was like. It was no secret to Sirius, as a pureblood having grown up in a proper pureblood household, attending dinner parties and balls, that when a girl turned of age she would wear her first set of proper dress robes, and that meant it was old fashioned and had a corset. Before that age they steered clear of corsets, because everyone knew that corsets did to you if one wore one too often. Though, Hermione wished for just a moment that she had worn one of these at least once before, so that she would be a little bit more used to it. She was afraid that she might faint in front of their guests. In fact, she had actually seen a girl do that last year at the Potter’s Christmas party.   
When she could no long feel Mrs. Potter’s hands on her back, or any tugging from the strings that laced her corset, Hermione straightened up a little bit and turned around to face her mother, giving her an assuring smile when she saw the worried look on her face.  
“Now I understand why women fainted so much back in the day. It’s awfully hard to breathe in this thing.” Hermione commented, giving a soft laugh to show her mother that she was fine.  
Mrs. Potter laughed at her daughter’s comment, and she reached to the bedside table to fetch the jewelry that Hermione was to wear with her dress. “Believe it or not, that’s not the tightest that they can go.” She said as she brushed the single curl that hung down to her shoulder out of the way to place the pearl necklace around her neck. “You’ll see plenty of older women wearing them tighter than this.”  
Hermione couldn’t believe that it was even possible to wear something that tight. She had trouble breathing in this, how would anyone be able to wear something tighter? As she turned back to her mother she added the sapphire set ring and a pair of earrings that matched her necklace which Mrs. Potter had leant her for the evening. “Well…how do I look?” she asked, nervousness ringing in her voice.  
Mrs. Potter smiled as she took in her daughter’s appearance. Her hair had been pulled up nicely so that only a single ringlet cascaded down her neck and onto her shoulder. The pearl necklace bought attention to her slender neck, and the low cut of the dress bought attention to the soft curve of her bosom, though it were the same for every girl wearing old fashioned dress robes, the corset squishing her breasts and causing her cleavage to show.  
“You look beautiful, darling.” Mrs. Potter said as she ran a hand over Hermione’s hair, pinning away a loose curl that had sprung out of her hairdo. Placing a hand on the small of her back she guided her towards the mirror. “Take a look for yourself.”  
Now that the dress was out of the box and she was wearing it Hermione could see it better. The sleeves were short, coming to her elbows, though around 2 inches of white lace material was poking out the end of her sleeve, ultimately making the sleeves come to the middle of her forearm. The skirt flared out from her slim waist, and hung to the floor, barely skimming it, though she knew that when she had her shoes on it wouldn’t touch the floor. The bows down the centre of the bodice gave a nice touch, and the teal-blue looked very nice with Hermione’s dark curls and milky skin. Hermione felt like a princess.  
“I look like someone from a fairytale.” She murmured unbelievingly, looking at herself from many different angles, surely it must be an illusion? She was startled from her daze when she heard a knock at the door, and turned away from the mirror just as it swung open.  
“Oh, sweetheart. You look lovely.” He said, taking in his daughter’s appearance as he pushed the door shut behind him. Just before it shut, Hermione caught sight of two heads of dark hair angling to see inside of the room through the tiny crack, but the door shut in their faces before they could see anything.  
“Thank you, Dad.” Hermione smiled softly at the man with silver hair and round spectacles. After their talk the night before, Hermione had started to call them by what she considered them: Mum and Dad. Though she could only do it in select company. When they had guests she would have to continue calling them ‘Mr. and Mrs. Potter’ because she just knew that somehow it would get back to Wilkes.  
Mr. Potter continued to look at the young woman standing before her and shook his head slowly, incredulous. “You’re all grown up, Hermione. I remember when we first took you in. You’ve changed so much since then.”  
Hermione gave him a toothy grin. “I haven’t changed that much. Maybe got a little taller, lost a bit puppy fat, grown into my buck teeth…but you know I’m still that swotty know-it-all that Sirius bought to live with you.”  
He chuckled and bought his hand to her cheek. “Yes, you are. But don’t you ever let anyone put you down because of it. You’re a smart girl, and you are going to go far in life, Hermione.” He then turned to his wife. “It’s time to go down, love. The first guest arrived over an hour and a half ago, and most people have been here for an hour, mingling. Dinner is about to be served, and it can’t be served without the host.” He smiled at his wife as he took in her appearance.  
Her dress was much like Hermione’s, in the way that the sleeves weren’t full length, though she had at least three layers of ruffles made of different materials flaring out from where the sleeves stopped just before her elbow. Her dress was many different colours; the main material was a crème colour with small diamonds patterned all over. The under layer of the skirt was a modest pink, matching the front of her bodice, which was patterned with a flower. It was a very beautiful dress, and looked to be from the mid 1800’s. Hermione wondered if it had been handed down her family, or if they still sold dresses like this.  
“We’ll be right out.” Mrs. Potter promised her husband, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek, before turning to the chest in front of Hermione’s bed and shifting through it.  
When Mr. Potter left the room again, Hermione turned to watch Mrs. Potter. “What are you looking for?” She asked curiously.  
“Here they are! Thank goodness, I thought I’d lost them.” Mrs. Potter stood up straight suddenly, and in her hands were a pair of simple heels that matched the dress in colour. Without warning, she was bent over, pulling up the layers of Hermione’s dress to get to her feet.  
Hermione gave a small squeak in surprise, but complied, lifting her feet to slip the shoes on.  
When Mrs. Potter retreated from her hiding place under Hermione’s dress and the two stood face to face again, Hermione brushed her hands over the front of her dress nervously.  
“Don’t fuss.” Her mother ordered as she slapped her hands away, but there was a playful, loving tone to it, and Hermione was soon pulled in for a tight hug that could have given Mrs. Weasley’s hugs a run for their money. “You look so beautiful. Thank you for this, Hermione.”  
The Potter’s had always wanted a daughter. But because of the inbreeding that had happened in a lot of pureblood families lineage, a lot of pureblood families had problems conceiving any children. James had been the only child they could produce, and that had been after a lot of miscarriages. They loved James with all of their hearts, but when Hermione, and later on Sirius came to stay with them, they had been happy to call them their children as well. And they were ecstatic that Hermione had accepted the Potter heirlooms and the dress, and that she was wearing them to come out in made them even happier.  
“You don’t need to thank me.” Hermione breathed, squeezing her just as tight. “I should be thanking you. With everything you’ve done for me, especially tonight.”  
“Anything for our daughter.” Mrs. Potter replied, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s head, before finally pulling away and guiding Hermione towards the door.

Outside the door in the hallway, Sirius and James were leaning against the wall impatiently. They’d been out there for at least half an hour waiting for Hermione and Mrs. Potter to finish getting ready so they could go down to the ballroom. They couldn’t enter the ballroom without their escorts. Sirius was escorting Hermione that night on Mr. Potter’s request.  
Though he was not biologically their son, they felt the same about him as they did about Hermione: he was their son in everything but blood. And because they had taken him in, it was recognized by the Potter’s close friends, and work colleagues that he was as good as their son.  
But because Hermione had been adopted there were rules and restrictions around her attending the party. Though Hermione was of age, there were still many rules about women in pureblood society. There were many things that Hermione couldn’t do without her father’s permission. That included parties like this. If she didn’t have a date she couldn’t attend this party by herself. That would mean that Wilkes would have to attend with her. And nobody wanted that. It would ruin their night, it would ruin Hermione’s night.  
“Hey!” Sirius objected with he felt a sharp jab in the ribs, no doubt in his mind that it was James’ elbow that had done the damage. He turned to his brother, his mouth opened to throw some not-so-nice insults that would’ve earned him a detention in school, but those words died on his lips when the door to the bedroom opened and an angel dressed in blue stepped out. James elbowed him again, urging him to step forward and take her arm like he was supposed to, but a tall blonde bet him to it.  
“Hermione!”  
Hermione’s view of the boys was obscured as quickly as she had seen them, and she blinked at the tall blonde girl that had stepped in her line of vision. “Marlene?” She asked, looking the pretty girl she recognised from school.  
Marlene McKinnon was one of the girls that Hermione shared a dorm with, and though they weren’t good friends, they did get on and talked occasionally outside of classes. Marlene was tall with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and was the object of many boys affections at school. But everyone knew she wasn’t allowed to date, because her 4 older brother’s forbid it, and Marcus, the only one that was still at school with them and was in his last year, tried to beat up any boys that even laid their eyes on her. Hermione didn’t know how Marlene dealt with her brothers, and she was very glad that none of the marauders treated her like that. She would have gone mental by now.  
“Wow, you look…” Hermione looked Marlene up and down, not being able to think of any words to describe how beautiful the blonde looked. The dress robes she wore that night were baby pink in colour, and was accented with white and a slightly darker pink. The sleeves came down to her wrists, and had a number of ruffles poking out the ends, much like Hermione’s and Mrs. Potter’s. The front of her bodice had a lacy pattern on it that bought attention to her waist, which had been pulled in tightly by a corset, and looked a lot smaller than Hermione’s did. “You look beautiful, Marlene.”  
Marlene smiled brightly at the brunette and looked at her dress. “Gosh, this must be vintage!” She cried, grabbing at the sleeves of Hermione’s dress. “They don’t make anything nearly as nice as this these days! Gosh, you’re so lucky!”  
“Let the girl breathe, Marly.” James rolled his eyes at the blonde’s enthusiasm and appeared beside his date, giving his sister a wide grin.  
The McKinnon’s and the Potter’s had been friends for many years, and so James had asked Marlene, whom he had been very close to as a child before going to Hogwarts, to be his date.  
“I can’t breathe in this thing anyway, James.” Hermione said, smiling back at her brother.  
“I didn’t bloody well think so. You look like a stick.” He commented, but leant forward to give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek, murmuring, “You look lovely.”  
“As do you,” Hermione commented, looking down at her brother’s dress robes, which looked fit for a king. His dress shirt was white and the collar came high, accompanied by a thick, maroon tie which was patterned with gold lines. The dark red suit vest he wore was buttoned down to his hips and matched his tie, subtle golden lines patterned over the front. His black trousers were tight, and tucked into knee high boots, which Hermione thought looked awfully uncomfortable. And of course on top he wore a set of black robes with the potter family crest sewn to the front pocket, the signature piece of clothing that Mr. Potter was also sporting.  
Hermione jumped when she heard a small crack, and turned to see Poppy, one of the Potter’s house elfs standing beside Mr. Potter. “The guests is all here, Master Charlus.” She said fiddling with material of the white dress she made nervously. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were always kind to their house elfs, and that included giving them proper clothes to wear instead of dirty pillow cases. “Some of the guests is getting impatient for dinner.”  
“Thank you, Poppy.” Mr. Potter nodded at the elf, and when she apparated away, he turned to his family. “Right, James, you know what to do. Take Marlene’s arm, son. And remember to push her chair in when she sits down.”  
James nodded and took Marlene’s arm, leading her down the hallway towards the ballroom entrance. Hermione watched them leave, her eyes never leaving Marlene. Many girls felt envious towards the beautiful blonde. Hermione never considered herself that petty, or that low to do so. Although for a moment, she understood those girls and why they felt that way.  
“How heavy is that thing?” Sirius asked as he slid up beside her, giving her his signature grin. “I’ve always wanted to try one on you know- just to know how heavy it is, and how tight it is. I always hear girls that’ve just turned of age complaining about it.”  
Hermione laughed at her friend and touched her small waist, looking down at the teal-blue material. “I happen to think that you’d look very beautiful in a dress, Sirius. You’ve got the curves for it.” She joked, giggling as Sirius fluttered his lashes at her and tried to imitate Marlene.  
“Ooh! That must be vintage!” He squealed, grabbing at Hermione’s sleeves.  
Hermione tried to scowl at him, but she couldn’t find it in herself to do so. Instead she gave him a playful whack on the arm. “That’s mean, Sirius.” She stated, though she was still grinning at her friend.  
“I am curious though, how heavy is that thing?” Sirius asked as he took her arm and started leading her down the hallway towards the ballroom.  
“It’s fairly heavy, though not as heavy as I expected it to be.” Hermione said, her heels clicking on the hard wood floors as she walked.  
Sirius nodded, and was silent for a moment, before he turned to look at his date. “You look gorgeous, Kitten.”  
Hermione flushed very slightly and smiled to cover up her blush, running her spare hand over her pinned up hair. “Thank you, Sirius. You look very handsome as well.”  
And he did. His dress robes very similar to James, what with the suit vest and the thick tie, though the colours were different. Sirius’s suit vest was a royal blue colour and was made of silk. This matched his suit jacket which he wore instead of a cloak, not wishing to wear the only tidy one he had, which had the Black family crest on it. The coat was a deep blue in colour and came to the top of his thighs while his tie was a burgundy colour and was patterned with black diamonds, not something he’d picked out for himself. He hated dressing up, and Mrs. Potter had picked out his whole outfit for him. He thought it was kind of obvious, because he and Hermione were both wearing blue.  
He decided not to comment on the matter to Hermione, hoping that she wouldn’t notice, and that nobody else at the party would notice either.  
But as a matter of fact, Hermione had noticed this a few moments ago, and like Sirius, decided not to comment on it. Mrs. Potter was obviously going a bit mad, deciding to match Sirius and Hermione’s dress robes together. It wasn’t as if they were dating. He was her friend, and he was just escorting her to do her a favour. She hoped that nobody would read into the matching dress robes.  
Sirius came to a stop at the entrance to the ballroom, and looked sideways at Hermione. “Ready?”  
Hermione ran her hands over her blue dress robes self-consciously, before bobbing her head. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”  
“You look great,” Sirius assured her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. He then looked at the house elf standing beside the door and the elf clicked its fingers, making the doors swing open.   
Hermione had been to these things before. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous. Maybe it was because it was her first time in a corset, and she was afraid that she would faint in front of everyone. Maybe it was because Marlene was there. Maybe it was because Remus was there. But it was definitely not because Sirius was her date and they were wearing matching dress robes.  
Sirius strode out onto the landing, his arm through Hermione’s, and the little house elf followed them out, announcing their presence in a surprisingly loud voice for such a little elf.  
“Miss Hermione Wilkes, accompanied by Mister Sirius Black the third!”  
Hermione and Sirius stood still on the landing for a short moment, listening to the whispers that erupted before Sirius stepped forward, signaling to Hermione that they were going to walk down the stairs. Hermione hesitated a second, before they both began to descend the stairs together.  
They crossed the room in silence, both aware of the whispers, and they were happy the next time the doors opened and Mr. and Mrs. Potter stepped out, taking the attention away from them.  
“I wonder what they were whispering about.” Hermione muttered as they reached their table at the other end of the room, and Sirius pulled out her chair for her.  
“Probably your matching robes.” James voiced from across the table, his chair groaning against the floor as he stood up. Two chairs down, Remus stood as well, following James’ lead. He’d never been to an event like this before, and was basically copying everything that James did. Being raised by his muggle mother, he hadn’t been taught all the rules like this: standing when a woman sat down at a table, standing when a woman got up from the table, it was all very confusing to him.  
Hermione and Sirius glanced at each other before looking away, and Sirius pushed in Hermione’s chair for her as she sat down, before taking the seat next to her.  
“I think it’s definitely your matching robes.” Marlene commented, sipping her drink delicately, with her pinky up.  
James and Remus sat down again, and Hermione watched Remus. He looked so lost, and she thought that it was rather adorable.  
“Yeah, I dunno what mum was thinking, putting you both in blue. You look like a couple.” James stated with a small snicker. “Like that would ever happen. If you two ever got together, if the world wasn’t ended already, it would once you started fighting. You fight like an old married couple.” James thought about what he just said, and then laughed. “On second thought, maybe you should be a couple, now that I think about it!” He was clearly joking, but it made things awkward at the table.  
Sirius cleared his throat, glaring at James across the table, before he picked up his glass of firewhiskey and downed a huge gulp. Remus was staring down at his plate, fiddling with the multiple forks on the left side of his plate. And Hermione was looking around the room, wanting to look at anything but them, because then they might see how red she was. It was going to be a long night.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N Hi all! Sorry this took so long to get up! I haven’t had time to update for a while. This was also met with a case of writers block. I’d like to thank my awesome friend Tessitra for listening to all of my ideas and telling me what she thinks. I apologise for the crappy chapter and ending, but this is the last chance I’ll get to update for a little while again so I wanted to get it up. Tell me your thoughts! 

A loud tapping noise coming from the corner of the room caused all the guests to go silent, and Hermione turned to find that the conductor was standing up in front of the small, but very talented orchestra which sat in the far corner of the room. This particular orchestra was Mrs. Potter’s favourite, and they had been hiring them for all of their social events since Hermione had first been taken in by them. They had been setting up and testing their sounds to see if they were in tune and all was well with their instruments for around 20 minutes, and Hermione had been looking over her shoulder anxiously for that whole time.  
She loved to dance. She remembered that night at the yule ball so many years ago, that she had danced all night with Viktor Krum and she had had her first kiss. She usually danced with James at these things, but tonight she would dance with Sirius first as he was her escort. She wasn’t nervous about that- not one bit. She’d danced with Sirius before, practicing for things like this late at night in the common room, laughing as he tripped on the leg of the coffee table in the common room, or fell onto his backside on the floor.  
Hermione didn’t know why she was so nervous. There wasn’t any reason to be. She’d been to plenty of the Potter’s famous parties; she had danced with James on numerous occasions in front of many guests. But when Sirius rose and held out his arm for his date, a few whispers broke out at the table closest to them, and Hermione’s stomach did a 360 in her stomach. One word she’d picked up on more than once was courting. There wasn’t a modern muggle word that correctly translated to ‘courting’, but a word that was close was ‘dating’. But it didn’t exactly fit properly, because dating in pureblood society was very different to the term ‘dating’. Courtship is the period in a couple’s relationship that precedes their engagement. Traditionally in a pureblood household it will be arranged by the parents, but in some cases where the parents are no longer alive, or the child has been disowned, like Sirius has, a son may take it upon himself to pick his future wife and start to court her.  
The length of courtship varies with each couple, though it has to be long enough for the wedding to be planned and contracts to be drawn up. The average length is around a year, with the couple starting to court in their 7th year of school. Though many pureblood families still believe in this tradition, others didn’t. Mr. and Mrs. Potter had no plans to arrange a marriage for James and make him court her. They both agreed that the tradition was ridiculous now, and that James would have a much happier life if he could pick his own girlfriend and go at his own pace.  
Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest as she glanced around the room at everyone, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. They weren’t courting! It was obvious that they were just friends, wasn’t it? She thought so. They’d been friends for a long time, everyone knew it. There was no way they’d date! Sirius didn’t date, he just snogged. And Hermione didn’t do anything, in fact, sometimes James liked to tease her by comparing her to a nun.  
“Vix? You alright there?” Sirius asked gently and touched Hermione’s arm as he watched her eyes flit over the room at all the guests. She hadn’t moved from her seat yet, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter were already on their way to the middle of the dance floor.  
Hermione’s eyes shot to the tall, dark haired man standing before her and gave a nervous chuckle. “Of course, I’m fine.” She said, slowly rising from her chair and looping her arm through his.  
Sirius’ eyes stayed on the young woman as they made their way to the middle of the floor and took their places across from James and the bubbly blonde that was excited to have the first dance.  
“I’ll catch you if you fall,” He told her gently as he placed a hand on her waist and took her hand. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”  
Hermione shook her head slightly and placed her hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s not that.” She muttered.  
Sirius nodded, but knew that something was bothering her. Every time she was worried she got that same worried little crease in between her eyebrows. So he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and waited silently for the orchestra to start playing.  
After three delicate taps from the conductor, the orchestra started playing, and then they were twirling around the dance floor.  
Sirius was a wonderful dancer, that much had been obvious to Hermione since the moment they’d first started practicing together. She knew that he and Regulus would have been given lessons as children, because they would have attended party after party in pureblood society. Hermione had taken a few lessons with her father as a child, but that was such a long time ago, she hardly remembered any of it except for how her father had constantly stepped on her toes. He had always joked that he had two left feet beneath his socks and shoes, and after their first lesson Hermione had agreed that he must, to be that bad of a dancer.  
As Hermione and Sirius twirled around the dance floor doing a rather complicated fast step that Hermione had finally gotten the hang of after the last party she’d attended, Hermione’s eyes flitted around the room at the guests, her lips thinning as she realised that they were still talking about them.  
Sirius’ eyes however, were on Hermione’s face. That little crease between her eyebrows was showing again, not having disappeared since they’d stood up from the table. Trying to comfort her, he gave her hand another squeeze, and Hermione’s brown eyes lifted to meet his.  
“What’s wrong?” He murmured to her, just loud enough for her to hear over the orchestra.  
One by one, couples started to rise from their tables and came join the Potter’s on the dance floor. It wasn’t long before the dance floor was packed, but nobody bumped into one and other. They were all in perfect timing, seeming to dance around the ballroom as one.  
“Have you heard what everyone’s been saying about us?” Hermione whispered back to Sirius, her eyes darting over his shoulder once more to the older couple dancing not too far from them , before looking back up to his storm-grey eyes.  
Sirius raised an eyebrow and glanced away from her for a few moments, his eyes dancing across the room and taking in the stares that people were casting their way. He’d known that people were watching them, but Sirius had an unfortunate case of selective hearing, and often tuned out everyone’s voices when he knew they were talking about him.  
“What are they saying?” He asked with a small frown.  
“They think that we’re…you know…courting!” Hermione hissed to him.  
Sirius arched both of his eyebrows then and glanced around the ballroom again, this time trying to tune into the whispers around them. It was difficult to hear with the orchestra playing loudly, but there was one word that he caught more than once. Courting.   
“I blame Mrs. Potter.” He said after a moment, looking back down at the girl he was leading around the floor. Hermione wasn’t short by any means, she was taller than a lot of the girls in her dorm, except for Marlene, but she still fit firmly into the ‘average’ category. Dorcas and Alice were tiny tots, and Lily wasn’t much taller. Mary was only slightly shorter than Hermione, and Marlene seemed to tower over all of them with the tall and slim model build that every girl seemed to want. Sirius didn’t see why. He personally didn’t like the stick thin ones, he was so big compared to them, sometimes it seemed as though they were so fragile and skinny that he could snap them if he held them too tight.  
“Matching our dress robes was not the smartest move.” Hermione agreed with a sigh, trying not to glare at the couple nearest to them that mentioned that dreadful word again. “It’s obvious we aren’t courting, isn’t it? We’re friends for merlin’s sake! And it is well known that you’ve been disowned. My father would have an aneurism if he found out that you’d picked me. And he’d never agree to it. These people have the brain of a goldfish if they think that there was any chance of us courting.” Hermione scoffed at the ridiculousness of their guests. “And it’s quite obvious we’d never want to be with each other. You’re like my brother.”  
Sirius just chuckled dryly and looked over her shoulder out onto the sea of twirling dresses and cloaks. It took him a moment to reply. “Yeah, we’re like brother and sister.” He said softly, refusing to meet her eyes.

 

“Where did Sirius stalk off to before?” Remus asked as he slid into the seat beside Hermione, setting his suit jacket over the back of his chair. He was the odd one out at this party. Instead of wearing old fashioned robes like most of the other male guests, he was wearing a black muggle tuxedo, which was a hand-me-down from his father. The elbows were patched, and the sleeves were quite frayed, though nobody had noticed as he hadn’t been wearing it for most of the night. The suit looked nice on him, Hermione thought, and the bowtie gave him a ‘James Bond’ kind of vibe. He’d just got back from sharing a dance with Marlene, who had just left the room to powder her nose.  
Hermione looked up at her friend and sipped her wine with a frown. “I’m not particularly sure…last I saw him he told me he was going to get drinks for the both of us. Then he disappeared.”  
That had been at least a half hour ago. She and Sirius had shared three dances together before he had stalked off out of the ballroom by himself. She had then shared a dance with Mr. Potter. The Daddy daughter dance was a formal part of coming out. It was where muggles had gotten the tradition for weddings. Of course, half bloods and muggle borns had adopted this for their own weddings, but families like the Black’s, and other anti-muggle families didn’t have that tradition at their weddings. It was definitely against the rules.  
“James is missing too.” Remus said with a small sigh, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.  
“I have a feeling they’re up to something.” Hermione replied with a shake of her head, yet another curl springing out from her up-do.  
“And that something isn’t going to be good.” Remus agreed quietly, taking a sip of his water. He wasn’t 17 yet. His birthday wasn’t until March, so he couldn’t drink wine or firewhiskey like Sirius and Hermione.  
“It probably involves something being blown up.” He said with a grin. Sirius and James were quite infamous for blowing things up in potions. It wasn’t because they were bad at potions; potions actually came naturally to both of them. They just loved to blow things up, especially when Severus was in range.  
“I’m betting on the fountain out back.” Hermione chuckled. “James has a deep hate for that fountain. He fell into it a couple of summers ago and broke his arm.”  
Remus grinned at her. “Is that how he really broke his arm? He told us that he broke it wrestling with a troll.”  
“And you believed that?” Hermione scoffed.  
“Of course not.” Remus rolled his eyes. “We just let him think that we did. We knew he would actually have done it some stupid way. He’s accident prone, that boy.”  
Hermione laughed and nodded, trying to flatten the curls springing out around her forehead. “He broke his leg climbing a tree, you know. And as soon as he’d got it healed he wanted to go back out and play quidditch!”  
Remus shook his head and snorted into his water. “That sounds like something he’d do.”  
“Mum was hysterical. Threatened to ground him if he didn’t stay inside and rest.” Hermione smiled and took another sip of her wine. “Oh! I love this song.” She looked around the dance floor as the song changed and the dancers started dancing at a faster pace. In the middle of the room Mr. and Mrs. Potter were obviously having a wonderful time, staring into each other’s gaze lovingly, but their dancing never wavered. The two loved to dance together, and on nights like these Hermione knew that the two of them danced late into the night. There were still quite a lot of people dancing, but it was mostly the older couples and friends of Mr. and Mrs. Potter that were still dancing. In fact, Hermione realised with a frown appearing on her face, there didn’t seem to be anybody younger than 20 in the room.  
Shaking her head at the oddness, Hermione looked back at Remus. “Do you want to dance?” She asked with a smile.  
Remus looked a bit sheepish and ran a hair through his hair. “I don’t know the quickstep…” He admitted quietly. “I’m sorry…I’d just stand on your feet…it would be an absolute disaster.”  
“It wouldn’t be a disaster.” Hermione said sincerely. “I could teach you how to do it.”  
Remus’ eyes glanced over her shoulder for a moment, and he pinched his lips together, seeing the quick dancing that everyone was doing. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of all these people, but he wanted to dance with Hermione at least once that night.  
“Maybe we could go outside, and you could teach me?” He asked hesitantly.  
Hermione flashed her pearly whites as she smiled at Remus and nodded. “Of course. Here’s probably not the best place, we’ll just bang into everyone.” She stood from her seat, and Remus stood too.  
Remus opened the back door for Hermione to let her outside first, knowing at least this rule for being a gentleman. It was common knowledge, even to a boy who hadn’t been raised in a pureblood household. He was very much a gentleman, always had been, and Hermione knew that he always would be.  
When Remus stepped outside and shut the door behind him, he smiled at the snowflakes falling from the sky. The two of them made their way slowly down the steps, careful not to slip, and then made their way out into the middle of the backyard, Remus taking Hermione’s arm, in case she did slip.  
“It’s quite quick, but we can practice it slow, first.” Hermione said to him, placing one hand on his shoulder and taking his hand.  
Hermione guided him through the steps a few times, and smiled at his obvious nervousness and how he spluttered apologies every time he stepped on one of her feet. He didn’t actually have two left feet. He danced fine with Marlene earlier. Hermione didn’t know what was making him so nervous, but it was kind of adorable to her.  
After Remus stomped on her feet once again Hermione laughed and stepped backwards, holding her skirts up so they didn’t get soaked in the snow.  
“I’m hopeless.” Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the shorter girl.  
“No you’re not. You just need more practice, is all. By next year, you’ll be a natural and we’ll be twirling around the dance floor doing the quick step.” Hermione gave him a bright smile.  
Remus smiled at the witch standing in front of him. Hermione always had faith in him, and even when he was clearly hopeless, she always knew how to make him feel better about himself. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were cut off as a loud whooping sounded from the other side of the backyard.  
Hermione spun around instantly, she would know that sound anywhere. It was Sirius and James, her two idiots.  
“Where in merlin’s name have you two been?” She demanded as the two stepped into the light shining from the windows of the mansion.  
“I told you, I was going to get us drinks!” Sirius said, holding up a bottle that Hermione recognized instantly. Firewhiskey.  
“Sirius!” Hermione groaned. “Mum and Dad have that here, you know!”  
“Yes, my dear Vixen. But it’s not very strong! This is the real stuff. And it is an important tradition for a 17 year old to get absolutely smashed on this stuff at least once.” He waved the bottle at her and came to a stop in front of them, raising an eyebrow at how close she and Remus were. “What’s going on out here?”  
“Isn’t it obvious? They’re on a romantic stroll!” James teased them, elbowing Remus.  
“Don’t be ridiculous, James.” Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.  
“Of course we’re not.” Remus muttered at the same time as Hermione spoke, shaking his head.  
“Only a couple would come out here and dance in the snow.” James pointed out, waggling his eyebrows at the two.  
“Remus is too shy to even hold a girl’s hand, let alone dance with her.” Sirius interjected loudly. “Now that that’s dealt with, who’s up for drinks?” He waved the bottle in James’ face.  
“Sod off,” James shoved his friend playfully and then turned to his other friends. “Come on, you two. All the others are upstairs, we’re gunna play a drinking game!” He said, starting towards the back door. Remus shoved his hands deep into his pockets before trudging after him.  
“Last one to the door’s a rotten egg!” Sirius said, running past Hermione and trying to beat James to the door.  
Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her skirts, following them slowly.  
Shouts were heard as Sirius tackled James in the snow, but Hermione just kicked some more snow at them as she past, snickering at she girly shrill Sirius gave at the cold snow.  
“You’re done for, Potter!” Sirius called after her, using her old last name, before he forgot James and started to chase after Hermione.  
A piercing scream echoed around the backyard as he scooped Hermione up and threw her over his shoulder, and Hermione pounded on his back.  
“Sirius Black you put me down right now!” She yelled, smacking him over and over.  
“I just don’t want you to be the rotten egg, love!” Sirius teased her, carrying her up the steps and through the front door. But when he stepped inside the front door, he froze, and Hermione frowned.  
“What are you doing?” She demanded.  
“I can’t move.” Sirius muttered, his eyebrows knotting together.  
“Stop being stupid, Sirius. Either put me down, or carry me inside.”  
“I’m not kidding, Vix! My feet are stuck or something!”  
Hermione have a long sigh. “Put me down, let me have a look at your feet.”  
Sirius leaned down and set the petite witch down, and after smoothing out her skirts, Hermione went to take a step, but found that she couldn’t move. “What the…?” She muttered, looking down at her feet, leaning down to touch the floor, seeing that it wasn’t sticky at all.  
“Uh…Hermione?”  
Sirius sounded unsure, almost nervous, and when Hermione looked up, she saw why. Above them in the doorway was a small piece of magical mistletoe.  
Hermione froze for a moment, her eyes glued to the small piece of decoration above them. Oh, she was going to kill her mum.  
Sirius was frozen too, and his heart was beating so loud in his chest he was worried that she could hear it. She was so beautiful, the white snow that had landed on her head contrasting against the dark curls that had been pinned up into a beautiful up-do.  
Hermione’s eyes darted to Sirius’ lips for a moment, before looking up into his eyes, swallowing thickly.  
And then Sirius leaned closer, and Hermione panicked. “No! No, no, no way. You’re like my brother, Sirius!’ She said, leaning away from him.  
She swore, for a moment, she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly that Hermione questioned that she had even seen it at all.  
“Calm your tits, Vix. I was just going to do this.” He muttered, leaning to press a chaste kiss to her cheek.  
Hermione tried to ignore the tingly feeling where his lips pressed, but as soon as he did it, her feet came unstuck and she stepped backwards, wiping at his cheek.  
Sirius rolled his eyes at her. “It’s not like I’ve got germs you haven’t already been exposed too.” He said, before stalking off, uncorking the bottle in his hands and taking a large swig.  
Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head. She was most definitely not feeling butterflies.


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione barely had time to cast her shield spell as the green light came barrelling towards her, and as it hit the shield, bouncing back towards the caster she couldn’t help but gasp. She had had unforgivables thrown at her time and time again, back in her old time. She remembered how many times Harry had pulled her out of the way when a green light came in her direction during the final battle at Hogwarts, how many times it simply whizzed past her ear, when it had been aimed at her face. She counted herself lucky every time the green light had missed its target, but this was a very different situation.  
Halfway through the month of January Hermione still had no luck with the sword. It just wouldn’t present itself to her. The sword was supposed to present itself to a true Gryffindor in need of it. Hermione was a true Gryffindor, was she not? She was sacrificing everything, just to defeat Voldemort, so her friends could have a better life. She was in need to if, wasn’t she? If she didn’t present the sword to the dark lord very soon she was sure he would dispose of her. It was a test, to see if she could do whatever it took to get the Dark Lord what he desired.  
But Hermione just couldn’t do it, because she wasn’t in real need of it. She herself, didn’t need it to protect herself like Harry had in the chamber of secrets, or like Neville did in the final battle. She was so close; she just needed to retrieve it from the hat.  
It was in this month when Hermione and Daniel were called to their second death eater meeting. It was much like their first one- there was hardly anyone present, not even their adoptive parents. Just two of Voldemort’s most dedicated death eaters: Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy.  
“Hermione, Daniel, do you have any news on Dumbledore’s movements within the castle?” Voldemort questioned the two youngest members of his army while petting the snake around his shoulders.   
Beside her, Daniel was quivering slightly, he hadn’t stopped since he’d taken the seat beside her. Hermione tried her best not to show her fear, like Daniel was, and raised her chin slightly as she looked down the table towards her ‘master. “Dumbledore has left the school, My Lord. I believe he could be travelling to either somewhere in China, or Taiwan, as he had a book on how to speak Mandarin.”   
“And I suspect he has gone there for more than just a holiday?”   
“I have reason to suspect that he has gone there to recruit more witches and wizards for his army.” Hermione told him, looking him right in the eye. “He sent out a lot of letters before he left, possibly invitations to talk about joining his army over lunch.”  
It was all a lie, of course. Dumbledore was currently recruiting, but not in China. He had gone to France a week ago and had told Hermione that if Voldemort asked, she was to throw him off track, to a different continent.   
“What a daft old man, he can’t even get people to follow him in his own country, so he has to go to another country to get supporters for his cause!” Lucius sneered, to which Bellatrix gave a cackle and nodded in agreement.   
Voldemort silenced them with a sharp look, before turning back to Hermione. “And what are your developments with the sword?”  
“I’m very close, my lord. I just have to get it out of the hat.”  
It was clear on Bellatrix’s face that she didn’t like this new comer that was taking Voldemort’s attention from her.   
“My Lord, I could get the sword for you, today. It won’t take me long.” She said, leaning forward in her seat towards him where he sat at the head of the table.   
“Bellatrix,” He said, turning his eyes on her, and though his voice was smooth, it was cold. “Though I appreciate your dedication to my cause, you cannot be the one to collect the sword of Gryffindor.”  
Bellatrix sneered a bit in Hermione’s direction. “But my lord, I can guarantee that I can get it much faster than that b-”  
“You cannot collect the sword of Gryffindor because it can only appear to a Gryffindor!” He sat forward in his seat, his eyes narrowed and filled with malice as he looked at the woman. “You will leave Hermione to complete this quest alone, do I make myself clear?”  
Bellatrix muttered, “Yes, My Lord” and leaned back in her seat, shooting Hermione a glare.  
Vodlemort sat back in his chair and smoothed down the front of his robes, before looking down the table at Daniel and Hermione again with a sadistic smile.   
“Are you ready for your training?”  
And that was how Hermione had ended up partnered with Bellatrix Lestrange, who was currently throwing unforgivable curses at her left and right.  
Across the room, Daniel and Lucius were in duel, though Daniel wasn’t having any unforgivables thrown at him, which was probably a good thing. Because Daniel was a sloppy dueller, which was obvious, because his whole face was currently swollen from a stinging jinx that Lucius had just sent his way.  
Hermione wasn’t complaining. Well, maybe it would be nice to have someone that as training her, instead of trying to kill her, like Bellatrix was. But Hermione could hold her own, or at least she hoped. She might not had attended her 7th year at Hogwarts, but she had learnt how to duel in battle on the job. Could she write that in her resume? Fought and killed death eaters in a big battle at Hogwarts 22 years from now. But being able to hold her own against a woman who everyone thought was 8 years older than her and had plenty more experiences with duels and fights? That could impress Voldemort, and would make her rise in rank.  
Hermione dodged a stunning spell that Bellatrix sent her way, before pointing her wand at her and casting a non-verbal full-body bind curse. Bellatrix easily defected it, smirking at Hermione, almost teasing her, as none of Hermione spells could touch her.  
Hermione already knew that Bellatrix was a talented duellist- she had seen her in action before, and it would take a very talented witch or wizard to be able to beat her in a fight. Hermione would need a bit more training before she could beat her, though she could hold her own against her somewhat.  
It was when Hermione ducked to narrowly miss a killing curse hitting her full on in the face when their master called out to them.  
“Stop!” He ordered, standing from his seat at the head of the table where he had been watching both duels closely. He walked to the centre of the room, Nagini slithering at his feet, and he stopped in front of Hermione. “Daniel, come.” He ordered, watching as the boy scurried over to them.  
“Bellatrix, Lucius, you may leave.” He ordered without looking in their direction, looking between Daniel and Hermione.  
As Lucius made his way from the room after a small bow, Bellatrix hesitated. “Shall I wait for you in your quarters, my lord?”  
Hermione tried not to gag or show how much that made her stomach roll. Voldemort andBellatrix? They suited each other, she supposed, but wasn’t Bellatrix married?  
“No,” Voldemort said, still looking at the two new recruits, not even phased. “I have things to do this evening.”  
Bellatrix glared at Hermione behind his back, before bowing her head, and then walking from the room.  
“Hermione, I would like you to help Daniel with his duelling.” He says instantly, looking between the two. “I cannot have you out there in the field until you are at fighting at your best ability. I cannot lose any of my men.”  
Had it been anyone else, Hermione would have interrupted them and reminded them that there were woman fighting too, but this was Voldemort she was talking to. It would have been extremely stupid to say that to him, and they didn’t call her the smarted witch of her age for nothing. Instead, she only nodded, looking at Daniel, who looked like he was struggling to see, as his eyes were quite swollen.  
“You may go now.” He said, before turning from her and walking back to the table, picking up the goblet filled with wine he had been drinking from steadily during the meeting.  
Hermione froze as she looked at them, her head tilting slightly.  
“My Lord…are those..?” She asked, looking at the silver goblets encrusted with emeralds.  
“The goblets that resided in Salazar Slytherins chambers at Hogwarts when he lived there?” Voldemort looked up at her. “No, they are merely replicas. The goblets were lost when he left the castle. Why, are you interested in them?” He asked, looking at her curiously.  
“I’ve just been reading up on the founders, my lord.” She said quietly. “It’s a shame the goblets went missing. They are very beautiful.”  
“They are indeed.” Voldemort said, looking down into his goblet again, dismissing her.  
Hermione helped Daniel out the door, but her mind was only half on that. Because she had finally figured out how to get him the sword. She wouldn’t, she would give him a replica.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N Hi all! Sorry about how long it took to update this chapter. If you follow me on Tumblr you’ll know my laptop crashed and refused to turn back on. I had to get the motherboard replaced and it is still playing up even afterwards! I’m going to save up for a new one but until them I apologise for infrequent updates! :c Anyway, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a happy New Year! And if you don’t celebrate Christmas, If you belong to another religion, or just don’t believe in Christmas, I hope that wherever you are you’ve had a wonderful time with family and friends! My Christmas gift to you guys is trying to update as fast as I can (: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favourite/followed, please keep doing so, it makes me really want to update. Next chapter coming up soon xx  
“We’re approaching the steps now,” Hermione gently to the sobbing hufflepuff who was holding onto her elbow. Hermione and Daniel had made it back to Hogsmeade around half an hour ago, though it had taken them that long to navigate their way up to Hogwarts and through the front door, what with Daniel’s eyes being swollen shut. Hermione had thought it would be best if she just levitate him on a stretcher back to Hogwarts. But he had been stubborn, wanting to walk himself. They had compromised by Hermione holding his arm and guiding him.  
It was a difficult situation that they had found themselves in. They could go straight to the hospital wing and get him healed straight away, but then Madam Pomfrey would be curious, start asking questions about where he had run into the very well-cast stinging jinx. That was definitely a no-no. They couldn’t have her poking around in death eater business, it was dangerous. There was a good chance that if she went poking around, she would end up dead, or worse, tortured.  
And so they just had to wait for the spell to wear off. They didn’t know when it would happen, but hopefully before morning, or questions would be asked.  
“Slowly, that’s it.” Hermione murmured as she gently began to help the boy down the stairs, noticing he was frustrated at not being able to see his way. “One more step.” She told him, waiting patiently for him to step down from the last step and take a hesitant step forward, before they began to make their way down the corridor towards the entrance to the hufflepuff common room.  
When they were about halfway there Hermione started to hear soft sniffles, but at first Hermione didn’t realise that the sound was Daniel starting to cry. She was focused on getting him back to the common room before a prefect spotted them, so she could get back to her own common room and get some rest. It was quite late at night, and she couldn’t afford to get detention when she had so much to do. It was only when the sniffles turned into the sound of muffled sobs did Hermione turn to look at his swollen face.  
“Daniel?” She asked at a whisper, coming to a stop in the middle of the corridor as the boy wiped at his eyes furiously.  
“I’m a-alright, I’ve just got s-something in my eye.” He stammered out through his sobbing.  
Hermione glanced around at the sleeping portraits that lined the walls of the corridors, and after a moments though she dragged him a few corridors down to a small hiding place behind a tapestry and cast a nonverbal muffliato charm so nobody would be able to hear them.  
“Your eyes are swollen shut; I don’t think anything could get in there to irate them.” Hermione pointed out, dropping her hand from his elbow to take his hand, her attempt to comfort this boy she hardly knew. “We’re in this together, Daniel. You can tell me if anything’s bothering you.”  
Daniel didn’t say anything for a few moments as he tried to get his crying under control. When he seemed to finally have it under control he couldn’t hold it in any longer, and he blurted out, “I can’t do this, I can’t be a death eater!”  
His sobs returned at a louder volume as they wracked his body and he buried his head in his hands as his body shook.  
Hermione’s heart ached for the boy, who was the person most unlike a death eater she had ever seen. He was kind, gentle, and though Hermione was not one to usually follow stereotypes, but he was a Hufflepuff. She had never heard of a hufflepuff death eater before. He was a loyal, happy boy, and this situation had ruined him.  
“Oh, Daniel.” She murmured, her heart breaking for the boy as she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight. “I know, I know you don’t want to be. I don’t want to either. But we have no choice. We’ll be killed if we refuse to join him.” She said softly, letting him cry against her shoulder.  
It was a little while before the boy in her arms calmed enough to be able to get his words out. But what he said next shocked Hermione.  
“We’ll be killed anyway. Or one of us will be, at least.”  
Hermione froze, and looked at him as he wiped at his eyes, that despite his crying, looking a little less swollen.  
“What do you mean, ‘one of us will be?’”  
“Don’t you know?” Daniel sniffled a little bit. “You-know-who only has use for one of us. He’s making us do all these tests and at the end he’ll pick one of us to take the dark mark, and he’ll kill the other one. I overheard Mr. Rosier telling his wife awhile back.”  
Hermione was dumbstruck, and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, for the first time in her life, speechless.  
“I’ve got no chance,” Daniel continued, leaning against the stone wall, not waiting for Hermione to say anything. “You saw me back there; I’m not good at duelling. History is my strong subject, not defence. He’s going to pick you to take the mark, and he’ll kill me. We all know it so there’s no point in me even trying.”  
“Don’t you dare think that, don’t you dare think that you don’t have a chance.” Hermione told him, placing her hands on his shoulders.  
“It’s true. I can hardly cast a disarming charm properly!”  
“I can train you! I can help you get better.” She looked at his swollen face, and though he couldn’t see her, she was looking at his swollen eyes, as if she were looking into them. “If we’re both brilliant, they won’t be able to choose between us, and they’ll keep both of us. Neither of us need to die.” She hugged him then, holding him tightly. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”  
And she just hoped that she didn’t break that promise.

 

  
It had taken another fifteen minutes for Hermione and Daniel to reach the pile of barrels that was the entrance to the hufflepuff common room. As stubborn as he was, he got Hermione to turn around so she wouldn’t see how to get inside. This resulted in both he and Hermione getting soaked in vinegar as with his eyes swollen shut he couldn’t see, and he blindly tapped the wrong barrel two times in a row. Only then did he accept her help at finding the right barrel and letting him tap it in the tune to ‘Helga Hufflepuff’, before he crawled inside, disappearing in the tunnel that led to the Hufflepuff common room.  
And so now Hermione was making her way back towards Gryffindor tower, smelling of foul vinegar, her hair was slowly turning into a frizzy mop on her head. She was surely a sight to behold.  
It was a long walk up from the Hufflepuff common room to Gryffindor tower, hiding in the shadows from prefects and weaving around the suits of armour she knew were there from many nights wandering the castle. Though halfway there, her mind started to drift to more important things, things much more important than simply avoiding detention.  
Detention didn’t matter to Hermione anymore. Though the desire to learn was still there, it was muted, dulled by more important things. Like staying alive, like keeping her friends alive. Like making a better life for Harry.  
And so her mind drifted to the sword, her current mission. She was, after all, still so confused as to what Voldemort had in mind for the sword. He couldn’t want to make it a Horcrux, could he? After all, the sword had not been a horcrux in her past life, as far as they knew. But could that have been because he did not have a worthy Gryffindor to retrieve it? The only Gryffindor Hermione knew that had joined his cause by choice was Peter Pettigrew, and he was no worthy Gryffindor. He was a traitor, a rat. A rat Hermione had weaned from the pack she was now a part of, and for good reason.  
And by the time Voldemort had acquired the sword –or the fake one, not that he knew this- he believed that he had 6 horcruxes. Little did he know that the diary, the ring and the locket had been destroyed, but he also had an extra Horcrux, in the form of a 17 year old boy whom he was trying to kill.  
But the question was: why did he have the sword in Bellatrix’s vault in the first place? Yes, it was an object that had belonged to one of the founders of the only home he had ever loved, but that didn’t mean he would place it in the place said to be the most protected in all of England, or even the world? This made Hermione suspicious. After thinking this all through, she thought it was very likely that Voldemort could be wanting to make a horcrux out of this. What evidence was there to say that he hadn’t made it into one when Snape handed the replica over to him back in 1988? They had never defeated Voldemort, so there was no was to be certain with this.  
But if Hermione were to hand over a replica of the sword, would Voldemort be able to tell it was a fake? Griphook had said the fake Professor Snape had put in Bellatrix’s vault at Gringots had been so convincing only a Goblin could tell the difference. The question was, could Hermione make a replica that good? Or could she steal one that already existed?  
Hermione was pulled out of her thoughts when she stumbled around the corridor and instantly peddled backwards, seeing a shadow and thinking it was the head boy or girl on their rounds, searching for younger students out of bed. But after a moment of half hiding behind a suit of armour, she realised that it was not in fact the head boy or girl, but a boy pressing a girl up against the wall while they kissed rather heatedly, hands roaming everywhere.  
Hermione couldn’t help but stare for a moment. She had never kissed a boy like that. She had gone through puberty twice and yet she had only kissed two boys, both in her past life. Viktor Krum, twice, and Ron, only one before she had gone back in time. Hermione watched them for a moment before she went to turn away, but she paused when she heard the boy speak.  
She would know that voice anywhere.  
Sirius.

A/N Okay I remembered this last minute before uploading, a lot of people have been asking whether this will be Sirimione or Remione. I am in love with both so much, and originally planned for this story to be Remione, but I thought, fuck it, most of the time Remus gets the girl. It’s Sirius’ turn. So it will be EVENTUAL Sirimione. This story isn’t going to focus too much on romance until her seventh year, so I hope you can stick with me until then :D Love you guys x


	22. Chapter 22

A/N By the time I get this uploaded it will probably be new years’ day (for me), so happy New Year! I hope you guys have a wonderful night with friends and family and maybe even get a new years’ kiss! Wherever you are, I hope you have a wonderful new years’ eve and have a great year this year! x  
“Hermione? Hermione!”  
Hermione was jolted out of her thoughts and she looked up quickly, only to be met with a hand inches away from her face, waving frantically.  
“James, I’m trying to read.” Hermione complained, slapping his hand away lightly as she pulled her book, which was lying open on her lap, closer to her.  
“Trying to read? You’ve been staring at your hands for the last ten minutes, Vix. Unless you’ve got some kind of tiny book written on the back of your hand that Moony and I can’t see, then I don’t think you’re reading at all.” James said, raising an eyebrow at her with that ever-present cocky smile on his face.  
“What’cha thinking about?” He asked as he plopped down on the seat beside her, his smile turning into a bit of a smirk as he saw her glance across the room for barely a second, locking on the dark haired Gryffindor who had a girl sitting on either side of him and looked completely over the moon about it. “Boy problems, perhaps?”  
Hermione shot James a look that told him she wasn’t impressed with him. “I don’t know what you’re implying, James. I’ve been trying to read my book, but I have a lot on my mind.” She said, closing the hard cover with a loud bang and standing up from her seat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. “I’m just stressed about that potions essay we have due tomorrow. I handed it in this morning but I’m not sure I’ve done enough to get an O.”  
“How many inches have you done?” James asked curiously, leaning on his elbow as he sat in her grave, taking the spot she had previously been sitting in.  
“Twelve.”  
James rolled his eyes. “Hermione, it’s a six inch essay. You’re going to do fine.”  
“But I think I forgot to add the properties of the pine root. I’m going to go write that part to add, just in case I did forget. And it’s far too ” It was a lie, and though over the years Hermione had become quite a good liar, James could see right through her.  
“Hmm…whatever you say.” He told her with a grin.  
And with that Hermione turned on her heel and fled the common room, ascending the steps to the 6th year girls’ dormitory. When she entered she found it to almost empty, other than the petite redhead sitting across the room.  
“Is it too loud for you down there as well?” The said redhead spoke, glancing up at Hermione as she placed her things back inside her trunk before sinking back onto her bed.  
“Yeah, I can’t even hear myself think down there.” Hermione said, to which Lily smiled and nodded in agreement, before going back to her homework.  
The two girls had never been friends, probably due to the fact that she didn’t want to be around James or Sirius, who were constantly surrounding Hermione, and because when they spent too much time around each other they fought like cats and dogs, and the rest of the girls in their dorm suffered horribly when they fought. They hardly spoke at all, except for times like this, or to ask about any classwork they had missed. The two found that when they spoke too much, they would start to snap at each other, possibly due to the fact that they were so alike. They were both very studious, they both loved to get lost in the pages of a book. Hermione used to find that with her mother, who was also very bookish, used to fight with her a lot when they were around each other too much, mostly in the summertime.  
And so Lily and Hermione found that they were perfectly happy to only talk occasionally, sticking to their own friendship groups; Lily with Mary and Marlene, while Hermione stuck with her marauders.  
As Lily went back to doing her homework Hermione pulled out a novel she had borrowed from the library. She was halfway through it but hadn’t been able to find any time to finish it this year, seeing as she was so busy with her mission and with school work she found that she hardly had time just to relax. She had a little time now, and so she laid back on her bed, her eyes starting to skim the words on the page.  
However, it wasn’t long until she was merely staring at the page, her mind stuck on other things.  
Sirius.   
Sirius had always been interested in girls, that much had been obvious from the first time she had entered the headquarters to the Order Of the Phoenix. She had caught the way he would wink and flirt with many of the female order members, how he would stare at their backsides. She had even caught him and a busty blonde in an intimate position down one of the hallways. He got a stern telling off from Molly that night.  
She had never had a problem with his interest in girls. He had been an early developer, being the first to jump at the chance to play spin the bottle, always urging Hermione to play. But she had never really had an interest in boys, or even girls. She was far too focused on her mission to be interested in anything remotely sexual. But she had humoured Sirius, laughing at the girl he had been forced to kiss during truth or dare, or spin the bottle, teasing him about the girl he dubbed ‘Big Tits Tracey’ and how she was stalking him.  
But she just couldn’t get rid of the image of Sirius pressing the mystery girl up against the wall. The image in her mind made her stomach clench, it made her feel ill. She couldn’t blink it from her mind no matter how hard she tried. The picture was just so…wrong. Hermione didn’t like it. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the page she realised what was so wrong about the picture in her mind. Sirius was kissing the wrong girl. But who was the right girl?

 

  
“Hermione?”  
Yet again, Hermione was jolted out of her daydream to look up to a hand waving in front of her face. She blinked a few times and instinctively leaned back away from the hand, looking up into the kind eyes of Albus Dumbledore.  
“Are you alright, my dear? You seem awfully distracted tonight.” He mused; looking down at the young woman sitting slumped in the chair on the other side of his desk.  
“Sorry, Sir. I’m just…tired.” Hermione lied, sitting up straight and stretching. “Where were we?”  
Dumbledore gave Hermione a knowing smile, as it was obvious that she was not tired, she just had a lot on her mind. But not wanting to intrude on her private thought, Dumbledore continued with what had had been saying before she had fallen into a daydream.  
“From your description of the fake sword, I was able to track it down to a family in Edinburgh. With the right amount of galleons I was able to bribe them to hand over the replica to my care.”  
“So you have it?” Hermione asked, leaning forward in anticipation.  
Dumbledore nodded slowly and folded his hand together, resting him in front of him on the table. “Alas, there is something I wish to discuss with you before I hand over the sword.”  
Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the older man. “Sir?” She asked, a little confused as to what could be more important than taking this sword to Voldemort straight away and continuing to convince him that she was a loyal follower.  
“As you know, your….situation is a first. Nobody has ever gone back as far in time as you have, at least that we know of. It has never been documented before, and I can’t find any mentions of it in the book of Time Travel History.” Dumbledore gestured to the book that lay open on the desk beside him, his half-moon spectacles lying on the page to mark his spot.  
“What are you trying to say, Sir?” Hermione asked, her voice small, worried about what he would tell her.  
“I am afraid of how much time we have to complete this mission.” Dumbledore said slowly, his eyes never leaving Hermione’s face. “You were born on the 20th of September, 1979. And I am afraid that on your birthday, three years from now, you, as merely a copy of your future self, will disappear.”


	23. Chapter 23

A/N Thanks to everyone for new follows and favourites, and especially for the reviews! I love when I get reviews it really makes me so happy! I’m sorry for how long it took to get this up; I find these types of chapters a bit hard to write. And I was on holiday for a little bit as well. A part of this chapter could seem a bit dark so some people. It didn’t to me, but I’m not sure if that’s because I was writing it…but tell me what you think!   
“You have done well, Hermione.”  
Hermione tried not to shudder at Voldemort’s voice. Though it was low and smooth, there was just something about it that made an unpleasant shiver run up Hermione’s back and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.  
“Tell me, how did you get this sword?”  
“It was quite simple, really…” Hermione started, watching as Voldemort ran his long, pale fingers over the hilt of the sword. “I stole the hat from Dumbledore almost straight away. Though getting the sword from the hat was the hardest part…I pondered how to do it for a while…I’ve read that the sword will present itself to any Gryffindor in need of it. The answer was simple. I put myself in a situation where I would require the sword and it appeared.”  
“And the situation was?” Voldemort’s eyes flickered to the young woman sitting at the other end of the table, his hand continuing to stroke the sword, this time moving down to the blade.  
“I was fighting with Daniel. I told him not to hesitate, to try and kill me. He did well.” Hermione said; her hand finding Daniel’s under the table and giving it a squeeze as she spoke. She hoped that he would not give away to everyone else at the table that she was lying. It was vital to her and Dumbledore’s plan that Voldemort believe this sword to be the real one. If he found out that Hermione was lying and it was a fake, things would go downhill very quickly. Wilkes had told her of some of his fellow Death Eaters lying to their master and suffering the consequences. The stories he had told her were not pretty, and they appeared in her nightmares frequently.  
Hermione had spoken to Daniel briefly a few days before the meeting about her using this as a lie- as she was helping him with improving his duelling, he had in turn offered to help Hermione with something. He was a Hufflepuff after all- he liked things to be fair, especially when Hermione was going out of her way to help him. The thing she had wanted was simple- for him to go along with her lie. He had not asked why she was lying, or how important it was, he was not one to stick his nose into other people’s business. But he had agreed instantly.  
While the Hufflepuff boy did not know that Hermione as working for Dumbledore, he did know that she had no desires in her heart to be a death eater, that she was only doing this to stay alive. And so, he would go along with the lie at all costs.  
Hermione had chosen this particular situation because it gave not only her, but it also gave Daniel some points for helping her- it told the Dark Lord that they were both dedicated, that they were both willing to do anything to try and get the sword for him- Hermione was willing to die, and Daniel was willing to kill her.  
Voldemort’s lips curled up into a malicious smile, and he placed the sword on his lap as he looked between the youngsters. “Well done, Daniel.” Was all he said to the boy, though it as clear in his voice that the boy had scored some brownie points. He would no longer see the boy as a weakling. Maybe now he would have a chance at surviving, if Hermione could convince Voldemort that they were both useful; that they were both worth keeping alive.  
“And you, Hermione, have done me a great service.” He continued, his eyes trailing to the young woman sitting beside Daniel, his almost sadistic smile still curling the corners of his lips. “Your father will be proud of you.”  
Hermione’s stomach flipped, and for a moment a wave of nausea washed over her. If there was one thing she never wished to do, it was to make Wilkes proud. The man reminded her so much of Lucius Malfoy. He was sick, following Voldemort around like a lost puppy, worshipping the ground he walked on. He would do anything for him, and he had, on countless occasions, bought prisoners home to his house, both muggle and wizard alike, just to please one of the most evil wizards of all time.  
And so instead of answering The Dark Lord, she simply bowed her head as she had seen many other of his servants do.  
“I hear that Daniel has been improving his duelling skills?” Voldemort asked after a moment of silence, his eyes never leaving hers.  
“Yes, my Lord. I have been helping him in all of our free time, just as you asked of me.” Hermione said, and gave the said boy’s hand a squeeze under the table.  
“Is he any better?”  
“I believe so, Sir.”  
“Well, then, let us test your new found skills, Daniel. Lucius, if you please.” Voldemort gestured for the death eater sitting to his left to stand, and the blonde man did as he was told, standing from his seat and sweeping across to the other side of the room, he and Daniel’s usual duelling spot.  
Daniel slowly stood, his hand slipping from Hermione’s as he walked away to the other side of the room. Hermione wiped her clammy hands on her trousers, afraid for her friend. Though he had improved slightly, it was not enough to beat Lucius, who was a talented dueller. She was terrified of what could happen to him- the last time, he had got away with some scratches, a few bruises and a wicked stinging jinx cast on his face. But would it be worse this time?  
But Hermione hardly had time to worry for him. Because moments later, a green light was barrelling her way, and she was ducking under the table so it wouldn’t collide with her face. But under the table, a red stream of light came flashing towards her and narrowly missed her eye, slashing the side of her ear instead.  
Hermione hardly had time to react to the pain of the cutting curse slashing the side of her ear, because she was already scrambling for her wand to block another spell sent her way. She managed to get a shield up just in time, and the blood red spell bounced backwards towards the caster, giving Hermione a small timeframe to clamber out from under the table and to her feet and facing the cackling witch standing opposite her.  
“Ready to play, Wilkes?” Bellatrix asked, curling a piece of her hair around her wand, showing off her teeth in an ugly grin, which were much whiter then Hermione remembered them being back in her original time. They had been chipped, and blackened. But of course when you’re in prison, especially one as awful as Azkaban, you don’t really care much about personal hygiene.  
Hermione was silent, not daring to fall to Bellatrix’s bait as she took a fighting stance and raised her wand, aiming it at the older woman, her heart thumping in her chest.  
She had been in the marauders timeline for four years now, but her fear for the woman had not wavered. The woman still haunted her dreams occasionally, and every time she saw her the hairs all over her body stood on end. Having to train with her like this on Voldemort’s orders was almost unbearable. But she had to do it to keep her cover.  
“Boo!” Bellatrix gave an ugly laugh as Hermione flinched slightly, blowing one of her frizzy girls away from her eyes.  
“Are you scared, love?” She asked, sticking her lip out. She loved to play with her prey.  
Gritting her teeth, Hermione continued to ignore the woman, and with a dash of courage she flicked her wand, sending a red spell her way.  
Bellatrix blocked it easily, and snickered. “The little girl has guts!” She said, and before Hermione could see it coming, a curse was whizzing past her ear.  
Hermione ducked out of the way just in time, and cast a silent spell in Bellatrix’s direction. At first it seemed that she had been able to cast the spell, and Bellatrix laughed loudly at that.  
“Silly girl, can’t even-,” But then, she went to take a step. And her feet were glued to the ground. Which meant that she would not be able to dodge any curses Hermione sent her way.  
On cue, Hermione shouted, “Diffindo!”, and a rip appeared in Bellatrix’s corset. She didn’t get a chance to look and see if she had drawn blood, because Bellatrix was already fighting back.  
“Stupefy!” Bellatrix yelled, the bright red curse barrelling towards Hermione, and bouncing off the shield charm she got up just in time.  
The two fought back and forth to what felt like hours to Hermione, and she was coming to the end of her strength. She was unfit, and couldn’t fight for this length of time. She was starting to puff, ducking left and right, shouting one spell after another, and it was getting too much of her. Bellatrix was a talented duellist, even when her feet were stuck to the ground.  
She stumbled backwards when a stinging jinx came in contact with her arm and instantly red welts started to appear on her creamy skin.  
“Had enough, little girl?” Bellatrix asked, wiping away the dark red liquid that was dripping down her forehead.  
“Of course not,” Hermione ground out, taking a fighting stance again. If there was something Hermione never did, it was give up. She would never give up, never, because giving up meant she was failing her friends.  
She raised her wand to send another spell in Bellatrix’s direction, but her whole body froze when she heard it- a blood piercing scream.  
Her head snapped to the side, and she pure terror washed over her at what she saw. Daniel, writhing on the floor in pain, Lucius standing above him, his wand aimed at the boy.  
For a moment, Hermione was somewhere else. She was in the Malfoy Manor, lying on the hard wooden floor, and Bellatrix was straddling her, knife in hand. The screams were not Daniel’s anymore, but hers, and she was writhing in pain as Bellatrix carved that awful word into her arm.  
Mudblood  
No. Hermione thought, snapping out of the flashback, her eyes finding Daniel as he screamed his throat raw before her. She would not let him suffer as she did, she wouldn’t let his nightmares be filled of this moment over and over again. And so, she raised her wand, aiming it at Lucius.  
But before she could speak, Bellatrix flicked her wand, and screamed, “Deprimo!”   
It felt like a house was crushing her, and Hermione screamed bloody murder as she fell to the ground, her hands covering her head, trying to stop the immense pressure pushing down on her.  
It didn’t take her long to black out, and the last thing she saw was Daniel leaning over her.

 

James jumped in surprise when a tawny barn owl landed in front of him at the Gryffindor table, a half-eaten sandwich halfway to his mouth. It was lunch time on a Saturday, the usual time for mail deliveries at Hogwarts during the weekend.  
But this particular delivery was a surprise; he only usually got proper mail once every two weeks – or the occasionally howler from his parents when he got too many detentions, but come on, nobody even counts that – and this owl wasn’t even his mothers.  
Remus glanced up from the daily prophet and raised his eyebrows at seeing the owl. “Maybe something happened to your old owl?” He suggested, folding the paper in half and placing it on the table in front of him as he took a sip out of his goblet.  
“No…mum isn’t due to send me a letter until next week…and I’ve only had one detention this week. I’m sure she wouldn’t deviate from the schedule…”  
It was in that moment that Sirius, his hair a complete mess and sleep still in the corners of his eyes slumped into the seat beside James, his mouth splitting into a wide yawn. He had the habit of sleeping late on weekends, and on Mondays it wasn’t uncommon for him to get detention for being late to class.  
“Why is Vixen writing to you?” He mumbled in James’ direction, pouring himself a glass of juice.  
“What?” James asked with a frown, looking sideways at his best friend. He wasn’t entirely sure that his friend was completely awake after his late night shag fest with another girl from Ravenclaw.  
“Hermione. Why is she writing to you? We go to the same school, surely she could just come and see us. Unless she’s mad at me, for some unknown reason. Wouldn’t be the first time.” The said dark haired young man muttered as he sipped out of his glass of juice.  
“Are you meaning to say that Hermione has an owl?” Remus repeated with a frown.  
“No. But Wilkes does, she borrowed it once to write to me. Doesn’t she write to you?” Sirius’ eyes met Remus’ and the sandy haired boy shook his head slowly.  
“Not since she was adopted. We’ve all been at school together so there’s not really been any need to owl one and other.” Remus said with a shrug. “When did she write you?”  
“Christmas time, before she came over for the party.” Sirius shrugged, then looked to his left, watching his messy haired friend.  
“Well, are you going to open it or not?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there,” James muttered as he took the letter from the owl, and shying away from it as it flapped it’s wings and settled on the breakfast table beside him, clearly having been ordered to wait for a reply.  
James opened the letter slowly and left the envelope on the table, before his eyes started to scan the parchment, Sirius leaning over his shoulder.  
Dear James, (And Sirius, because I know he’ll be reading over your shoulder right now. Hi Sirius)  
You know I went out for breakfast with my father this morning at the three broomsticks, it was as awful as ever, but the wretched man believes that the best way to ‘keep me in line’ is to see me regularly. I’m afraid the breakfasts will only get more and more regular. He’s worried that you lot are a bad influence on me. And of course, you are. You’d have to be an idiot not to see that. (Not you Remus, because I know James will show you this too. You’re the one who keeps me from going insane)   
But that’s not what I wrote to talk to you about. Something dreadful has happened- I’ve come down with an illness! The doctor says it’s dragon pox, and has sent me home straight away so I don’t contaminate other students! It’s truly awful, and father is threatening to take away the parchment so I rest now- sorry my letter is so short. Hopefully I’ll be back at school by the end of the week!  
With Love,  
Hermione  
“Poor Hermione,” James muttered, handing the letter over to Remus to read as Sirius suddenly seemed extremely interested in the scrambled eggs, pushing them around his plate.  
“What’s wrong, mate?” James asked him with a small frown.  
“Nothing,” Sirius said instantly, giving him a fake looking smile. “Just…worried about Hermione.”  
James nodded and patted his shoulder. “Me too, mate. I’ve heard dragon pox is really awful…”  
But Sirius wasn’t really listening. He was tuning them out, staring down at his lunch. Because Hermione had lied to them. You couldn’t stay at home if you had the dragon pox. You had to be in the hospital, because the illness was strong enough to kill someone. His father had caught the illness when Sirius was quite young, and he remembered every moment of it. Seeing his father carted away to the hospital, not being able to visit him. He may not have liked his father but it was quite scary.  
But the question was- if Hermione didn’t have dragon pox, what did she have?

P.S I literally forced myself to stay up and finish this for you guys it’s 11 PM now and I’m still not done.


	24. Chapter 24

A/N Again, sorry for the wait for this chapter! I had insane writers block when I got about halfway through this and after days and days of putting it off (and with a friend’s encouragement) I was able to write the rest! This chapter is dedicated to my friend Hannah, and her awesome encouragement which helped me get this out to you all! Enjoy x  
P.S Classes start for me tomorrow, so unfortunately updates will be slow (probably). Hope you all had a wonderful break x   
For the first time in the three years Hermione had been friends with the marauders, she woke up alone in their dorm. Hermione stayed with the boys in their dorm on the odd occasion, usually sharing a bed with her brother, but sometimes she would fall asleep next to Sirius after hours of whispering back and forth with him, curled up on the end of his bed with him. She loved those moments with Sirius- where it didn’t matter who had said what to annoy one and other earlier in the day; it was just the two of them against the world in those moments.  
But alas- Hermione woke up alone that morning, because she had fallen asleep on James’ bed that night, and her brother quite often rose early in the morning to practice his quidditch down at the pitch. James was incredibly passionate about the sport, and currently his dream job was playing for the Appleby Arrows. And so, he liked to practice and improve his skills every chance he had.  
And so, that was where one of the marauders was. But where were the other two?  
Hermione sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily, her eyes moving across the room to Remus’ bed, which had been neatly pulled up, the sides of his duvet tucked in under the mattress, which told her that Remus had left the tower. He always made an effort to keep his side of the room tidy, and always made his bed before going to have breakfast. And judging by the time on Hermione’s watch, she guessed that Remus was either having a late breakfast, or he was in the library researching for the potions assignment which was due in a few days’ time. Hermione made a mental note to do her own research later that day.  
Glancing around the room, Hermione’s eyes fell on the last marauder’s bed- it was, as always, incredibly messy. Sirius never made an effort to clean his bed, at least, not that Hermione saw. There was the odd occasion that Hermione saw it made – which Hermione loved to joke about, telling Sirius that the sight of the bed all crisp and clean had made her have a heart attack – but Hermione suspected that he had nothing to do with it, that it was the house elves that did it for him.  
Hermione had left out a few chocolates for them in thanks- she couldn’t help herself. Though it had been proven many times that most elves actually liked to work hard, she still believed that they ought to be free. And so while they wouldn’t take the knitted clothes she had left out for them, a few of the chocolates did disappear, and Hermione was glad that they were helping themselves.  
Hermione was startled out of her thought by the sound of the dorm door opening- and the marauder in question came waltzing in, a towel tucked around his waist, his hair a mop of damp curls upon his head.  
“Morning,” Hermione said with a small smile, her eyes following the dark haired Marauder as he walked over to his bed and started to rummage through his trunk for his clothes. However, her smile disappeared when she got no answer from her friend, not even a smile in return.  
He had been the same with her all of last night, in fact, after he had greeted her upon her return to Hogwarts after being ‘ill’ he hadn’t spoken to her at all. He had shut himself inside the curtains of his fourposter, leaving the other two boys confused to his sudden change of attitude.  
“I’m not quite sure why you constantly go for the Ravenclaws…” Remus told his friend honestly as he looked up from his book to watch Sirius untie a Ravenclaw tie from his bedpost. “I would think that Hufflepuff girls were more your type.”  
“And if you were smarter, you would know that once you’ve been through enough girls from the same house they’re all going to realise that you’re a total player and you’re going to have a mob on your hands.” James added from where he was lying on his bed playing with the snitch that he had flogged from the broom shed.   
“I don’t get with that many girls.” Sirius said with a roll of his eyes as he sunk back onto his bed, chucking the Ravenclaw tie up in the air and pointed his wand at it, levitating it and watching it float around above him. “I’ve only been with like…”  
“Six,” James finished for him, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at his friend. “And they’ve all been Ravenclaws, except for that one girl that you snogged in the common room that time. And I’ve heard she was the smartest in her year.”  
“Alright, so what? I have a thing for smart girls.” Sirius said with a shrug of his shoulders, refusing to meet his friend’s eye.   
“And what is it that you like about them?” Remus questioned him, mimicking James by raising his eyebrow.  
“Well…I…they may act all conservative, but when they’re in bed…they’re quite the opposite.” Sirius smirked as he glanced over at his friends. But these boys had been his friends since they were all eleven- they knew he was lying. Then why did he like smart girls?  
Remus was about to open his mouth to ask just this, but was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Upon hearing the knock, James immediately caught the snitch he had been playing with and chucked it under his pillow, and Sirius motioned for Remus to open the door.   
With a sigh Remus closed his book and set it aside, before crossing the room and opening the door a crack, peeking out with one eye closed. But he was quick to undo the chain and wrench the door open and engulf the fuzzy haired girl standing outside in a tight hug.   
“Who is it?” James asked, leaning up on his elbow to try and get a glance past Remus, though the sandy haired boy was already pulling their guest inside by her wrist, and shutting the door behind them.  
“Hermione!” James scrambled up from his bed and over to his sister, though he was careful as he hugged her, afraid she might be fragile if she was still ill.   
“I thought you had the dragon pox?” he asked upon pulling back from the hug, looking down at her, inspecting her for any sign of illness.  
“I didn’t have a bad case of it. It only took me a few days to get over it,” Hermione looked up at her brother with a smile. “I’m fine, really. The healer told me that I was fine to return to school.”   
James grinned back down at her, and then glanced over his shoulder. “Oi, Padfoot! Look who’s back,” he called.  
Hermione’s eyes followed James’, and she watched as Sirius raised his eyes from where he had been studying his hands, and looked up at his friend, who looked to be in the same condition as she had been before she had left to meet her father in Hogsmeade four days earlier. She didn’t even seem to have any scars from the pox that she had claimed to have.  
“Welcome back,” He said, his voice a grunt, before he sat up and closed his curtains, cutting himself off from the rest of the world.   
“Sirius, have I done something wrong?” Hermione asked, slowly standing from where she had been perched on the edge of James’ bed, and took a step towards him. “You haven’t spoken more than two words to me since I’ve got back.”  
“I have actually. When I told you to get lost when you came over to ask if I was alright,” Sirius said, dropping his towel once he had skilfully pulled on his underwear underneath of it.  
“I…well you know what I mean.” Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him. “Is something the matter?”  
“No, Hermione, I’m peachy keen, alright?” Sirius snapped, still refusing to turn his head. He couldn’t make eye contact with her. He refused to. She was a liar.  
“I know you’re not alright because you won’t even look at me, Sirius! What have I done to upset you?” Hermione demanded to know.  
“You’re a liar, okay?” Sirius cried as he whirled around to face her, pointing a single digit at her face. “You are a liar and I know you’re lying!”  
Hermione stepped backwards, taken aback by his shouting. “I- what?” She asked, her heart pounding in her chest. Had he discovered her secret? She had always feared that this day would come- that one of her friends would discover that she was a ‘death eater’ and confront her about it. But she had to keep her cool- pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. “What are you talking about?”  
“I know you’re lying! You didn’t have the dragon pox! It takes weeks to get over a sickness like that, and you end up with scars where you had them! Everywhere! And I don’t see any scars on you!”  
“I...I did have the dragon pox, it just wasn’t a bad case.” Hermione tried to lie, but Sirius wasn’t listening at all.  
“And you can’t stay home when you have it, you have to go to the hospital because it is a serious illness! You can die from dragon pox! I know you’re lying, you’re a liar!”  
“Alright, Alright!” Hermione cried, raising her hands in defence. She’d given up. Sirius knew she was lying, so what was the point in continuing to try and lie to him? He’d only tell the whole common room if she didn’t admit it. “I didn’t have the dragon pox.”  
Sirius paused his shouting, and looked at her, blinking a few times. He hadn’t been expecting her to admit it so easily- Hermione usually never backed down.  
“How did you know?” Hermione asked quietly, looking up at Sirius with a frown.  
“My father had dragon pox when I was younger- it’s something I will always remember. It was…very frightening.” Sirius spoke slowly, his shoulder slumping as he looked down at his friend.  
“Please…don’t tell the others. I had to lie.”  
“I won’t tell them. As long as you tell me the real reason you were at home. Or were you even at home?”  
“I was at home.” Hermione said in a weak voice, looking down at her hands for a moment, before glancing back up at him. “You swear you won’t tell them?”  
“Cross my heart.” Sirius confirmed with a nod of his head.  
“I was…healing. I may not have been sick, but I was still injured.” Hermione looked Sirius in the eye as she spoke. This part wasn’t a lie, which she was grateful for. She hated lying to her friends, especially Sirius.  
“Injured? What happened to you?”  
“I…misbehaved.” This part was the lie. But there was nothing she could do about it this time. She had to lie this time. But it was for his own good.  
But that was all she had to say. Sirius’ eyes softened, and his face fell as he looked down at his friend. He knew what she meant- coming from one of the oldest pureblood families in England, Sirius well and truly knew what they meant. Pureblood families like the Blacks were all about order, about behaving. And Sirius- he didn’t always like to do what he was told. So when he lived with his parents- he used to get punished all the time.  
“How bad?” He asked as he leaned down to pull her into a hug, burying his face in her curls.  
“A few fractures, and lots of broken bones. He did it with a spell.” Hermione mumbled into Sirius’ shoulder, her eyes falling closed. “Felt like I was being crushed by a house. It took forever for all of the bones to heal.”  
Sirius closed his eyes and hugged Hermione tight against his chest. “You’re safe here, Hermione. He can’t get you here.” He murmured in her ear.  
If only he knew.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N Hello everyone! I am so sorry about how long it’s been since I updated, I feel awful about it! But this term has been incredibly busy. I’ve had so many assignments, and my laptop has crashed (again -.- I’m just going to buy a new one once I’ve saved up instead of fixing it again. It crashes every few months and seems to be a reoccurring problem). While I’ve still got assignments due, I thought that I would just push it aside for a few days, and dedicate my time to my writing. Thank you to everyone who has favourite, followed and reviewed in the last few months. It means a lot. This chapter is dedicated to my friend Hannah, who has made this term much more bearable, and has helped me through so many tough times over the past few weeks. You rock my world Hannah x  
“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.”  
Blank shock showed on Voldemort’s face for a moment, but then it was gone.  
“But what does it matter?” He said softly. “Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me.”  
“But you’re too late,” said Harry. “You’ve missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him.”  
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed to slits, and for a moment, the hall filled with an angry, pregnant silence. “It hardly matters now,” Voldemort finally spoke; his voice was smooth, but still managed to send shivers down the onlookers’ spines. “For I am not going to be the one to kill you, Harry Potter,”  
Wait...this isn’t how this is supposed to go…is it?  
Confusion flashed on Harry’s face: Hadn’t that been Voldemort’s mission for years? To kill the boy who lived single handedly?  
Voldemort’s lips twisted into a sadistic smile at the boy’s confused look, and twirled the elder wand in his hand. Without a word, the Dark Lord stepped aside, revealing the person who had been standing, hidden behind him.  
Gasps were heard at the sight of the Dark Lord’s secret weapon. Hermione Granger stood in the Dark Lord’s place now, her wand aimed at her childhood best friend.   
What’s going on?! This isn’t what was supposed to happen!   
“Hermione?” Harry asked at a whisper, his arm falling, unable to pull his wand on the girl whom he loved so dearly, like his own sister.  
But this clearly wasn’t the girl whom he had grown up with. Hermione Granger had been fiercely loyal to her friend. She would have rather died then pull her own wand on him. But this Hermione’s eyes, as red as blood, seemed to glow with delight in the situation. She looked to be as evil as Voldemort himself.  
“Hermione…please, don’t do this…help me. We can defeat him…together.”  
Behind the young girl, Voldemort tutted, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You know the spell, Wilkes…finish him…”  
Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it. Everything apart from the voices of the two was silent. The Boy Who Lived against the brains of the Golden Trio. It all came down to this very moment, the fate of their lives, the fate of the wizarding world, the fate of the entire planet.   
“Concentrate, Wilkes. Close your mind.”

Hermione’s wand twitched in her hand, and she gave a cackle at the way the bespectacled boy flinched in fear, those famous green eyes filled with fear, and confusion. What had happened to his best friend? What happened to the promise they had made to one and other? To protect one and other, to stick by one and other, until the wizarding world was safe from the Dark Lord’s grasp.  
“Do it!” Voldemort hissed in the girl’s ear once more, and Hermione tightened her grip on her wand. “Goodbye, Harry Potter…” She said with a malicious grin, before shouting those two, unforgivable words.  
“Avada Kerdavra!”  
Harry stumbled backwards a few steps, raising his own wand and crying, “Expelliarmus!” just in time, unable to dare use an unforgivable against his friend.   
The bang was like a cannon-blast and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided.  
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Draco’s wand flew high in the air, and Harry fell backwards towards the ground, his body limp.  
Hermione snapped her eyes open and sprung up from her seat, the sob that had been trapped in her throat for the past few minutes escaping finally as a croak as she fell to her knees on the cold stone floor. Her heaving chest was covered in sweat, and she pressed her forehead to the cool stone floor to try and calm her racing heart.  
That definitely wasn’t how that memory was supposed to go. Hermione vividly remembered the day her best friend had been murdered, and it didn’t go like that. This particular memory – or rather, reoccurring dream had started up a month or two ago, and haunted her both during the day, and the night, whenever she stopped and had time to think.  
“Come on, Wilkes, walk it off,” The gruff voice of Alastor Moody was heard as Hermione tried to push the image of herself with bloody red eyes, killing her best friend, from her mind, and a moment later she was pulled to her feet and pushed back onto the seat again.  
Moody was head of the auror department, but most importantly, was a part of the order, and happened to be rather gifted at legilimency. At Dumbledore’s request, he had come to give their young, but important recruit a hand with mastering occlumency, because though the bushy haired know-it-all had the theory of the skill mastered, she was, how do you put it….absolutely rubbish in practice.  
“No…no…I can’t go again, please…” Hermione got out through her pants, her hands shaking against the arm rests of the chair she had been pushed into.  
“You need more practice, Wilkes. Voldemort could get into your head at any moment, and we can’t have him knowing that you’re a spy,” Was the aurors reply, as he lifted his wand again and pointed it at her.  
“No! Please! I need a break…I need a break! I can’t do that again!” Hermione cried desperately, tears welling up in her eyes.   
The auror stared at the young woman for a moment, before lowering his wand, and looking at the young woman with a sigh. “Five minutes. Take a breather. Come back when you’ve got yourself together again.”  
Hermione was up out of her seat faster than you could say quidditch and ran from the room, out into the empty corridors.  
She ran, and ran, down the stone corridors, down the closest staircase, running until her chest hurt and she was puffing loudly. Coming to a stop by a window overlooking the lake, she let her hands rest on her thighs and she bent over, trying to catch her breath. While she stood like this, a tear ran down her nose, before falling to the floor between her feet.  
Numbly, Hermione lifted a hand to wipe the tears on her cheeks, and sniffed to try and stop her nose from running. Lately, her occlumency sessions always ended like this. They always ended with her fleeing the room, seeing refuge somewhere far away from that dreadful room, where all those awful memories, awful dreams resurfaced.  
Occlumency was hard enough without the torture of those horrible memories and dreams being showed to her over and over again. She remembered pestering Harry about not letting Voldemort in – now she knew how hard it was, she felt awful for having pestered him when the skill was so hard to master.  
She knew that Moody would wait for her to return – but she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t face those dreams again. Especially not the one that had just resurfaced. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose hard, trying hard to push it from her mind, but it seemed to be stuck, for now.  
This particular dream was one of many that plagued Hermione lately – and in each one, the bushy haired girl was red eyed, and was doing Voldemort’s bidding of her own free will. The Hermione in her dreams was pure evil, and over and over again, killed Hermione’s loved ones.  
Harry, Ron, the Weasleys, James, Remus, Sirius…over and over again.  
The dreams, of course, had a particular significance behind them.  
As the months went on, and Hermione and Daniel continued their ‘training’ for the dark Lord, they got closer and closer to the day of Hermione’s birth. Closer and closer they got, and yet, Hermione had accomplished nothing! She had accomplished nothing except getting closer to being accepted into the Dark Lord’s army. She had a few horcruxes, yes, but she couldn’t destroy them until she was sure that she had them all! And she couldn’t be sure. Because she had changed things by coming here.  
Time travelling was a nasty business. Because a time travellers actions could so easily change the future, which Hermione was positive she had already done. Voldemort had obtained the (fake) sword of Gryffindor, and Hermione was almost positive that it was his intention to turn it into a horcrux. That was just another damn thing she had to find, and destroy!  
She was failing everyone. She was failing Harry. She was failing Ron. She was failing James and Lily. She was failing Remus. She was failing Sirius. And she was failing everyone else that was depending on her. They were all going to die, practically at her own hands, because she had accomplished nothing!  
Hermione swiped away the fresh tears that formed in her eyes, and gave a frustrated cry.  
Something had to be done! But what could she accomplish, without being in Voldemort’s inner circle?  
The brunette slumped against the wall in defeat. It was hopeless. She was going to fail everyone.  
Why did it have to be her? Why did Dumbledore have to pick her?  
Hermione didn’t know how long she sat there, but outside, the sky started to darken, and the enchanted portraits that lined the walls one by one fell into a deep slumber. She didn’t want to go to sleep. She couldn’t. Not when those dreams would haunt her. And so she slid down the wall, her arms around her legs, and she continued to sniffle, this time into her knees.  
“Hermione?”  
Hermione snapped her head up, startled by the voice breaking the silence, and brown eyes met grey for a second.  
She would know those eyes anywhere, and for a moment, her heart hummed happily in her chest, before she saw the Ravenclaw standing to his left, her clothes rumpled from previous activities. Her heart fell, and so did her expression.  
“Are you alright? You’ve been crying pretty loudly...”  
“I’m sorry, did I disturb you?” Hermione quipped, breaking her eyes from the girl to glance at Sirius for a moment. Unable to hold his gaze, she glanced away, trying to look at anything else but those gorgeous grey orbs. But all her eyes found was the girl – and top few buttons undone on her school shirt.  
“What?” Sirius asked, his eyebrows shooting up at the hard tone in her voice.  
“Clearly, my crying has annoyed you enough to pull you away from your very important…activities.”  
“What?” Sirius repeated himself, his eyebrows falling this time, furrowing at the accusation in her voice.  
“You heard me.” Was Hermione’s only reply. Usually she would keep her comments to herself, try to ignore Sirius’ late night shenanigans with various girls from Ravenclaw house. But after the events earlier that night, she couldn’t quite manage to do that.  
Sirius let out a small huff, before glancing over his shoulder at the girl waiting impatiently for him to finish. “Cassie, maybe we’d better reschedule…?”  
“Reschedule?” Hermione let out a sarcastic laugh, and pushed herself to her feet. “No, no, no need to reschedule on my account. I’ll just get going.”  
“What have I done now?” Sirius asked through gritted teeth, following after his friend after a brief goodbye from the Ravenclaw, who had headed off in the other direction. At the pregnant silence Hermione gave him, he let out a small groan. Why was this woman so damned infuriating?!  
“I don’t know what’s got your damned knickers in a twist, Vixen, but all I did was stop to see what was the matter!”  
“How chivalrous, I bet you just sweep girls off their feet.” Hermione muttered under her breath, stomping down the corridor.  
Sirius bristled and clenched his fists as he took long strides to keep up with her fast pace. “For fucks sake, Hermione! Usually women are pleased when guys ask them about their feelings!”  
“Got a lot of experience in that department, do you?” She shot back rhetorically.  
Sirius groaned again, and reached out to grab her arm, yanking her to a stop.  
“Don’t touch me!” Hermione snapped, trying to slap his hand away.  
“I just want to talk!”  
“I don’t want to talk to you right now! I’d rather talk to…I’d rather talk to sodding Severus Snape right now than you!”  
“Hey! Some of us are trying to sleep here!” One of the portraits hissed, clearly angry at being woken from their slumber.  
Hermione shook her head and tugged her arm from Sirius’ grip. “Just…leave me alone, Sirius.” She muttered, before turning on her heel and fleeing from the scene, leaving a fuming Sirius behind.  
Women. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N Thank you to the reviews and follows I got after uploading the last chapter! You honestly have no idea how happy it makes me to see them, and I wish that I could reply to every single one of them and thank you all. This chapter is dedicated to YOU. Yes, you! Remember that you’re an amazing person. And damn, you’re beautiful <3  
“What’s she doing in there with Rosier?!” James Potter’s voice could be heard a mile away, in fact, it echoed down the stone corridor, and the whole school could have heard his disbelieving tone. If they hadn’t been asleep, that was.  
The Marauders were ‘Hogwarts famous’ for their late night shenanigans, it was a well-known fact that they stayed up past their bedtime. In the earlier years of Hogwarts, the Marauders had often stayed up late and snuck around under James’ invisibility cloak, setting up harmless pranks and just enjoying the thrill of being chased around by the prefects who just couldn’t seem to ever catch them. These shenanigans, of course, had gotten less frequent over time, and they hardly seemed to roam the corridors at night any more, except for full moons. This was of course, excluding Sirius, as he seemed to always have some place to be with some Ravenclaw girl at night time.  
The three had believed that Hermione, who had never really seemed interested in staying up past curfew except on full moons or when she had prefect rounds, would have been in bed that night. But they had realised upon checking the map that night that Hermione was not in her bed in Gryffindor tower, like they had expected. She had been walking in the opposite direction of the tower. And being the wonderful friends they were, they decided to follow her and see if she was alright.  
That was how they ended up here – crowded around the map in the middle of the corridor, half hidden by the invisibility cloak, which they knew they could no longer fit more than two under at a time.  
“Shut it! Do you want her to hear us?” Sirius hissed, giving the bespectacled boy a hard shove, getting a hard glare in return.  
Ignoring this, Sirius turned his eyes back down to the parchment in his hands, the scowl deepening on his face as he stared down at the two names on the parchment. Hermione Wilkes stood only inches away from Daniel Rosier in an abandoned classroom not too far awar, and seeing this seemed to only darken his already awful mood.  
The prankster had been feeling foul for days on end, and though he denied it every time one of the boys bought it up, they knew why. Hermione. She’d been ignoring him for days, and like Sirius, denied it any time either of her friends bought it up.  
“The map’s got to have it wrong this time,” Sirius finally ground out, his eyes never leaving the two names on the parchment in front of him. He couldn’t believe it. Hermione and Rosier?!   
“The map never lies,” Remus reminded him. “Besides, Daniel’s a Hufflepuff. He’s harmless. I worked with him on a Herbology project at the start of the year– I know for a fact that he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”  
“That was before he was adopted by them,” Sirius spat the word like it physically hurt him to say it, and screwed his nose up.  
“Saying that is like Hermione suddenly turned into a death eater when she was adopted by Wilkes. “ Remus told him with a frown. “You’ve never even met him. Give him a chance.”  
Sirius had always hated being scolded by his friends, and after shooting a glare his way, he turned and ducked out from under the invisibility cloak, stuffing the map into his pocket.  
“Padfoot, where are you going?” James hissed, reaching out to grab a hold of his arm, but only managing to grasp thin air. Glancing at Remus, the two locked gazes for a moment, before hurriedly folding up the invisibility cloak and following after Sirius down the corridor.  
“Please tell me you’re not going to spy on her,” Remus was quick to say as he finally caught up with Sirius, who was obviously determined to get to that abandoned classroom.  
Yet again, Sirius ignored the question, and James groaned. “No, no way, Padfoot, we are not spying on her. We agreed that we would find out where she was going on the map and make sure that she was okay, only because you said the last time you saw her out at night she was crying her eyes out. We did not say anything about spying.”  
“I don’t like this,” Remus agreed quietly. “We don’t spy on each other. That’s not what friends do.”  
“It’s not spying.” Sirius finally responded with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “It’s checking. She’s in there with Rosier! She could get hurt! He’s dangerous!”  
“We’ve already been over this, Padfoot. But you’re too stubborn to listen! Daniel wouldn’t hurt-”  
The rest of Remus’ sentence was drowned out as a sharp cry of pain echoed through the dark corridors. The sound was gone as quickly as it had arrived, but it was enough to make Remus’ hackles stand up on the back of his neck. And Sirius? Well, Sirius was already long gone, running down the corridor towards the source of the noise.  
Down the corridor, take the second left, then a right, and Sirius found himself fumbling with the door handle of the old History of Magic classroom – It took him a moment to realise that the door was locked with magic, and after digging around in his pockets for his wand, he pointed it at the lock and muttered, “Alohomora.”  
Behind him, Remus and James hadn’t taken long to catch up – but hadn’t thought about slowing down. And so, when Sirius finally pushed the door open, Remus bowled into him, and they ended up in a three person pile up on the floor.  
Groans could be heard from the bottom of the pile, as Sirius was squashed by the two others. “Gerr’off me!”  
After a few moments of shuffling, the three untangled themselves from one and other, and their eyes lifted as a shadow fell over them.  
“What on earth are you doing here?” Hermione demanded to know, taking a step back as she lowered her wand and slipped it back into her pocket.  
But Sirius didn’t make sense of what she had said – his eyes were glued to her cheek, where she was sporting a deep gash, which was still bleeding.  
His eyes moved after a moment, and found the cowering Hufflepuff standing hand hidden behind Hermione’s much larger frame. He was tiny.  
“Did you do that to her?” He demanded to know, jabbing one of his fingers in the general direction of Hermione’s cheek.  
Daniel was quick to shake his head, looking rather like a toddler as shook it furiously. “No! I mean- well, yes, but it was an ac-”  
Sirius was on his feet in a flash, his wand aimed at the Hufflepuff’s throat. “How dare you!”  
“Sirius!” Hermione cried, her own wand armed in her hand, but it wasn’t aimed at Daniel. It was aimed at Sirius. “Lower your wand! Now!”  
Sirius was as still as rock for a moment, before he slowly lowered his wand and stepped back.  
“What on earth were you thinking!?” Hermione demanded, lowering her wand slightly, though keeping it aimed at the dark haired Gryffindor.  
“He hurt you!” was his only excuse.  
“It was an accident!” Hermione replied sharply.  
“Well what was I supposed to bloody think?” Sirius shouted. “He’s a Rosier! His parents are death eaters, so he’s probably one as well!”  
“Why do you always have to think the worst of everyone?” Her voice cracked, but she covered it up with a hard glare. “Just because of his parents! You hear his last name and instantly think that he’s going to want to hurt me! You’re a Black! You more than anyone should know that a person’s last name doesn’t make them who they are!”  
“I…I’m bloody sorry! I was just trying to look out for you!”  
“Well don’t! You’re my friend, not my boyfriend, I don’t need you to! I can look out for myself!”  
Sirius’ face flashed, and for a moment, his vulnerability could be seen on his face. But it was gone as soon as it was seen, and he sneered at her. “Well if you don’t stop acting like such a bloody know-it-all, no boy will ever want to be your boyfriend!”  
“Does it look like I-”  
“Mr. Black, Miss Wilkes, you’ve just about woken up the whole castle!”  
Hermione turned her head, and her angry expression vanished, replaced by one of pure embarrassment.  
“Professor McGonagall!”  
The transfiguration professor was still dressed in her nightgown, complete with a hairnet and slippers. And she looked very, very tired. “I’m very, very disappointed in the both of you. Out after curfew, and waking up half of the portraits! Especially you, Miss Wilkes. A prefect! I should take your badge for this!”  
Hermione wrung her hands, pinching her lower lip between her buckteeth. “I…I’m sorry professor. It won’t happen again…”  
“It had better not.” The older women replied with a grunt, glancing around her at the other students in the room. “You’ll all have a night’s detention. Come to my office after dinner tomorrow evening. Now, get back to your common rooms. If I find you out of bed again, you’ll have a weeks’ worth detention on your hands.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Hermione lifted a hand to wipe at the sweat beading on her brow, her chest heaving up and down. Her whole body ached – and she thought that if she had to scrub the floor for another minute that her arms would fall off. Sitting up straight and allowing herself to stretch for a moment, Hermione couldn’t help but glance across the room, to where Sirius was sitting with his back to her, scrubbing a rather grimy section of the floor.  
The two hadn’t spoken a word to each other all day – and their friends, who were in the middle of this feud, were getting tired of this game. Hermione and Sirius seemed to fight constantly, but never had it been so bad that they hadn’t spoken a word to each other for weeks.  
Hermione knew she ought to apologise to him. This was, after all, her fault. She had been the one to have a go at him, and both times, he had only been trying to look out for her. Was that such a bad thing? Not really. There were so many girls out there that would chop off an arm to have a protector like Sirius. And though Hermione had always valued herself an independent woman and knew that she could take care of herself, the thought that Sirius had been looking out for her made the swarm of butterflies in her stomach act up again.  
There was no doubt in her mind that this boy was driving her absolutely bonkers. He was absolutely, positively, infuriating at times, but she loved him, really. Like a brother, that is. Right?  
With a deep sigh, Hermione got back to work, picking up the scrubbing brush and scrubbing at a particular stubborn patch of grime that just wouldn’t disappear.  
She wished she could apologise. But what could she say. I’m sorry I caused all of this. But the sight of that bimbo clinging to your coat tails made me want to punch a brick wall? No, that wasn’t a good idea. She was utterly embarrassed. All of this could have been avoided, if she’d just said, I’m fine and walked away.  
Shaking her head, Hermione scrubbed harder at the floor, until she heard those two unforgettable words.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Hermione almost dropped the scrubbing brush out of her hands, and glanced in his direction, her mouth hanging slightly agape. She wasn’t completely sure that her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, until grey eyes lifted to meet brown, and the words were heard again.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Sirius Black never apologised first. He was a stubborn arse, and was quite famous for it. He was never the one to make the first move and apologise, never was he the one to decide to be the bigger person and apologise first. But he just had.  
Clearly, Hermione was a bit shocked, as she croaked a little bit and gushed, “I –what?”  
Sirius sighed and dropped the scrubbing brush into the bucket, wiping his dirty hands on his trousers. His eyes fell to the floor, before looking up into Hermione’s again. “I’ve been thinking a lot about…what you said last night, about a last name not defining who you are and how I should know all about that…and you’re right. I do know all about that. I’ve been sneered at all my life for being a Black…but I’m not like them. My parents I mean. I’m not…I don’t support what they do.”  
Hermione snapped her mouth shut with a small pop and bit her lip, trying to shake off her initial shock of Sirius being the bigger person. Before she could speak, he went on.  
“I guess you sort of get it as well…I mean with your adopted father being such a prick and trying to keep you away from us blood traitors and stuff…and I just wanted to apologise for being such a prick. I’ll apologise to Daniel too, when I see him next.”  
“Oh, Sirius…you don’t have to apologise to me. I should be the one apologising to you. I was horrible to you, when you were just trying to help. I…”  
Hermione trailed off, and Sirius waited patiently for her to continue.  
“I don’t know why I snapped at you that night. I was very upset…and as soon as I got back to the common room I felt awful, I wanted to apologise. But I was so embarrassed…and last night I was just so mad that you were threatening my friend. Daniel really is a sweetheart…he felt awful for hurting me. But it was an accident…”  
Only the light pink scar on her cheek was evidence of last night’s duel, after Hermione had fixed it up with a healing spell.  
“I know that now. I wish I’d listened.” Sirius said softly, giving her a small, nervous smile.  
“I’m really sorry that I’ve caused all of this…” Hermione said quietly, running a hand over her unruly curls and glancing at him shyly.  
“We all have cranky days.” Sirius said with a small grin, in ways of accepting her apology.  
“Friends?” Hermione asked, and Sirius nodded, his grin widening.  
“Friends.”  
A/N This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write, but I hope you enjoyed it! Leave your thoughts in a review <3


	27. Chapter 27

A/N Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait (again), but as I said last time, I’ve had a trillion assignments, internals, and tests to complete and study for. Originally I planned for there to be only about 10 chapters for Hermione’s 6th year, but I (and possibly you too) love a good long fic, so I’ve opted to make it a bit longer, with more chapters. I’ve written down many plot ideas for later chapters, and I’m very much looking forward to sharing with you when I get time to write them (hopefully this term break I will get a fair chunk written)! Hope you enjoy this wee chapter X  
Having shared a dorm with Marlene McKinnon for almost 4 years now, Hermione thought that she knew exactly how to describe the boisterous blonde. Beautiful, busty and bold, were the first words that popped into Hermione’s head, and anyone who laid eyes on the girl for more than a second could see that it was true. Marlene was a knockout. But she was also confident, kind, and caring towards everyone, including Hermione. Though the two weren’t incredibly close, Hermione was glad to know that if she ever needed girl time, or someone to talk about boys with, Marlene would be there. There was one more phrase that almost the whole of Hogwarts used to describe Hermione’s dorm mate. Marlene was an absolutely amazing party planner.  
Marlene McKinnon’s annual Birthday Bash was practically Hogwarts famous. Every year, the weeks leading up to May the 1st, all anyone could talk about was the upcoming party. Excited whispers would follow Marlene everywhere, wondering what she would pull out of her hat this year. People would constantly approach Marlene, hoping that maybe this year, maybe this once, they would get an invite. Each year, the party seemed to get more extravagant and exciting. Well, to everyone but Hermione, that is.  
Hermione received an invitation every year – but, every year, Hermione declined. Parties were not her scene. She would much rather sit down in the common room and snuggle up by the fireplace with a nice book. Unfortunately, Hermione had far too much work to do for that, and knew she ought to be making study notes for the quickly approaching end of year exams. But, she wasn’t managing to get much work done. Because Sirius was sitting beside her, being an absolute pest.  
“Sirius,” Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and turned her eyes up to look at her raven haired friend. “Please, leave me be. I’m trying to concentrate.”  
“So am I,” Sirius replied simply with a smug grin, and lifted a hand to tug on another of her dark ringlets. “I’m concentrating on getting you to give in, and to come to this party with us!”  
“For the last time, Sirius, I’ve got no desire to attend this – this birthday party, if you’ll even call it that! It’s filled with all sorts of illegal activities!”  
Sirius scoffed and leaned back in his chair so he was balanced on the back two legs, kicking his legs up onto the table. “Illegal activities? Have you gone around the bend, Kitten?”  
“Providing alcohol to minors, I may remind you, is illegal! You may not be much for the rules –“  
“Not much for rules? Is that what you call prowling the castle at night doing merlin-knows–“  
“-but I’m not going to stand by and watch fourth years get entirely off their faces! I’d have to report it if I saw it, Sirius! You know I’m a prefect!”  
Sirius groaned and grumbled under his breath, “Prissy little-“  
“If the two of you argue any louder, Madam Prince will come over and ask you to leave,” Remus interrupted, shutting the text book he had been reading closed with a bang.  
“Help me out here, Moony,” Sirius begged him, sitting forward abruptly so all four of the chair legs were on the floor, and so were his feet.  
Remus held his hands up in defence, and simply said, “My hands are tied,” as he stood.  
Hermione’s lips twitched into a small smirk as she saw Sirius scowl, and murmured an appreciative, “Thank you, Remus,”  
The werewolf gave her a soft smile, and squeezed her shoulder affectionately as he moved to leave. “Don’t let him peer pressure you into it. I’m not going either,” He told her, before turning to leave. “But hopefully I’ll see you at the after party!”  
Hermione blinked a few times before turning her suspicious gaze on Sirius.  
“What does he mean, after party?”

 

Hermione jumped as the door to her dorm swung open, and a pair of giggling girls came waltzing inside. The first, a small girl with dark pixie cut hair, was the loudest, and from the way she was walking Hermione could tell that she was more than a little bit tipsy. The second, a girl only slightly taller with dark red hair had cheeks flushed as red as Rudolf’s nose, hinting to Hermione that Lily had also had a bit to drink.  
It came as a shock to Hermione to see that the red head had decided to let loose a little – Lily was known for being strict, and even a little bit stuck up when it came to things like this. Just like Hermione, Lily didn’t like it when minors were provided with alcohol. She was very serious about not breaking the law, and so until that night, she had never attended her best friend’s wild parties.  
“Good party, huh?” Hermione asked, shutting the book on dark magic that she had stolen from the restricted section in the library – for research purposes of course – and slipping it under her pillow.  
“Yeah,” Lily said, flashing her pearly whites at Hermione as she steadied her giggling friend, who seemed to be having a hard time staying on her feet. “I’m gonna head back up, after putting this one to bed. Found her in a rather intimate position with Frank – didn’t want her to do something she would regret once she was sober,”  
Alice and Frank were an official item, though Lily knew that her friend had yet to take that step in their relationship, and would rather the girl was sober to make that decision than waking up and not remembering it at all.  
“Good plan,” Hermione said with a nod, jumping off of her bed to grab Alice’s other arm and help Lily drag the giggling girl to bed.  
It took a while to convince Alice to stay in bed. After helping the girl change into her jammies and tucking her in, Alice had tried to climb out a few times, proclaiming her love for her boyfriend and demanding that they let her leave so that she could go and ravish him.  
After lying to the girl and telling her that they would go and fetch her beloved boyfriend, Hermione and Lily shut the curtains around Alice’s bed and shared a triumphant smile.  
“Think she’ll go to sleep?” Hermione asked at a whisper, heading back over to her own bed and perching on the edge.  
“I think so. I’m sure she’ll doze off as soon as I leave again,” Lily pulled off her jumper and put it away in her trunk, before glancing back at her bushy haired dorm mate.  
“Why don’t you come with me?”  
“What?” Hermione stared in shock at the red head.  
“Why don’t you come back up to the party with me? I know you were invited,” Lily’s voice was soft, and kind, and for just a moment, an image of Harry flashed before her eyes. Harry had gotten his kind heart from this woman, though Hermione hadn’t been able to see it until now.  
“I…I don’t know if I should…”  
“Your boys miss you,” Lily said with a small smile.  
Hermione couldn’t help but smile as Lily called the marauders ‘her boys’. A lot of people, especially Ravenclaws, spoke rudely behind Hermione’s back about her being friends with the boys. They claimed that Hermione must be a slag to be that close with them, but Lily had never believed that. She often watched Hermione and James together – not that she would admit to it – and could see the brother sister bond that had developed overtime. Lily wished that she had a sibling to love her as James loved Hermione, but instead she had Petunia, who only paid her attention when she wanted to be rude to her.  
“Especially Sirius. He’s been talking about you all night.”  
“He has?” Hermione tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her chest at the mention of Sirius talking about her, though her face seemed to brighten at Lily’s words.  
The look on her face was not missed by the red head, but she didn’t comment. “Yeah. Why don’t you come up and see him? Even if only for a few minutes. Just to say hello for everyone,”  
Lily looped her arm through Hermione’s and started to drag her to the door.  
“Maybe I should change,” Hermione suggested, looking down at her clothes – a pair of pajama pants with cats patterned on the material, and simple tank top.  
“I don’t exactly look presentable.”  
“Shush, you look fine. Besides, half the guys up there are less presentable than you. Frank’s running around in his boxers and so is Potter,”  
And with that, Lily dragged her dorm mate up to the 6th year boys dormitory, where she knocked loudly. The music that Hermione could hear loud and clear from outside the door stopped, and after a moment the door opened a crack, revealing half of James’ face as he peered out.  
“Hermione!” James’ face broke into a grin, and he opened the door the rest of the way to capture his sister in an embrace.   
“Padfoot! Moony! Look who’s here!” He said with a proud grin, turning to the rest of the room and pulling Hermione in with him.  
As she was pulled inside, Hermione found her eyes shifting around the room, looking for something. They came to a stop on a particular dark haired Gryffindor, and found his eyes were also on her, sparkling mischievously. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh as she saw him, a Gryffindor tie around his head, his button down shirt open, and clad in a pair of love-heart boxers.  
“Vixen!” He called joyously, clambering to his feet, leaving the half empty bottle of fire whiskey he had been drinking from near his feet as he made his way over to her.  
“I knew you’d come! Moony, you owe me 3 galleons!” He swooped in for a hug, pulling Hermione up off of her feet and twirling her around. Hermione laughed as he twirled her, and as he put her down she stepped back to look at her marauder.  
“What on earth are you wearing, Sirius?” She asked, her eyes bright with amusement as she looked at his boxers.  
“They’re Moony’s,” the boy shrugged and glanced over to where said boy was passed out on his four poster, a number of inappropriate drawings drawn over his face.  
“The party was fancy dress. And of course, I had to go all out,” Sirius turned back to Hermione and grinned from ear to ear.  
“You’re one to talk! Look at you, kitty-cat,” He playfully reached out and tugged on her pyjamas. “Did you dress up for me, love?”  
Hermione flushed slightly and smacked at his hand. “I was about to go to bed, but Lily convinced me to come and visit.”  
“Good going, Evans. Hermione needs a bit of relaxation – she’s working herself to hard,” James piped up, occupying what used to be Sirius’ seat and taking a swig out of the bottle.  
“Our resident kitty-cat needs a drink,” Sirius decided, taking Hermione’s hand and tugging her over to the circle, where their fellow 6th years expanded to let her sit.  
As the raven haired boy beside her passed her a bottle of fire-whiskey, Hermione opened her mouth to deny. She had always told herself to never succumb to the peer pressure when it came to drinking, or drugs, or anything else teenagers got involved in. But after a moment, she accepted the bottle, and twisted the lid off. Sirius was right. Hermione was in need of a drink.

It took an hour and a half for the people present at Marlene’s after party to realise that Hermione couldn’t hold her liquor. The girl had never had so much to drink – a few sips from one of the boys bottles every now and then, maybe a glass of wine, or a small glass of cheap whiskey, but never had she had as much as she had that night.  
“Oh! Can you dance like a hippogriff? Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na, Flyin' off from a cliff, Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na, Swooping down to the ground, Na na na ma ma ny na na ny na, Wheel around and around and around and around, Na na na ma ma ny na na!”  
Her cheeks were flushed, and she had rolled her pyjama pants up, feeling extremely warm from the drink. Her words had started to slur a little, and when a song by the newly formed weird sisters came on she started to sing along loudly – joined by Frank and Mary, who seemed to be just as drunk, and that was when Marlene decided to end the party. When people started to sing, that’s when you knew that it was time to stop partying.  
“ Ooh, come on, Mmm, you gotta move it, Like a groovy creature, Creature of the night, In a flight, Ah, a creature of the night, Well, do ya' feel alright? Do ya' feel alright?!”  
Sirius winced a little at Hermione’s attempt at a solo and tried to fight the urge to cover his ears – Hermione wasn’t a wonderful singer, and although he didn’t care in the slightest, when she was singing at the top of her lungs only a few inches away from him and it was beginning to hurt his ears.  
“Come on, love, time for bed,” He said, pulling the girl to her feet and holding her hands as she swayed a little bit on her feet.  
“I don’ wanna go ‘o bed…” Hermione protested. “I want to listen to the Weird Sisters…they’re not nearly this good 20 years from now…”  
Sirius paid no attention to the words that were coming from her mouth. Between singing, she had been blubbering things that made absolutely no sense to Sirius – and he guessed that it was the alcohol that was making her speak so strangely.  
“You can listen to them tomorrow, Kitten. Now come on, sleep time,” Sirius tugged the girl towards James’ bed, which was currently empty, the owner out finding a place to dispose of their rubbish from the party.  
Hermione mumbled something in her drunken state that Sirius couldn’t understand, though Sirius paid her no mind, sitting down on the edge of James’ bed and pulling the girl to sit beside him, where he did his best to tie her wild mane back out of her face. The ponytail which he produced was absolutely horrific – though he did the best he could, and knew that James couldn’t do any better.  
As he tied her pony tail, the upbeat song in the background faded out, and a new, slower song came on.  
“Hold each other tight, and keep each other warm, And dance your final dance, This is your final chance, to hold the one you love, you know you've waited long enough…”  
His hands stilled on her hair, and Hermione found that the lyrics seemed to flow through her body, tugging on her heart strings.  
Her head slowly turned, and she looked up at the raven haired boy who was curling one of her fluffy curls around his finger. Brown eyes met grey, and Hermione was completely entranced.  
“And make your final move, Don't be scared, she wants you to, Yeah, it's hard, you must be brave, Don't let this moment slip away…”  
Sirius was inching closer slowly, leaning down towards her, but Hermione had other ideas. He was moving too slow for her, so she closed the gap between them faster than you could say hippogriff.   
Hermione planted a sloppy, drunken kiss on Sirius’ lips, and she had moved in so fast that the action banged their teeth together, making Sirius recoil with a quiet cry of pain.  
The action hadn’t seemed to hurt Hermione, perhaps because she was so drunk, and she pouted as Sirius pulled away. “Sorry…It’s been a real’….real’ long time since I’ve done this…”  
Again, the words made no sense to Sirius, though in that moment he didn’t seem to care, as he brushed the words out of his mind, capturing her lips in another kiss and drowned out the rest of what she had been trying to say.  
They kissed hungrily, desperately, and Sirius cared not that it was drunken and a little bit sloppy – because despite the fact that she had been drinking fire-whiskey all night, she tasted like liquorice, and cinnamon and the slightest hint of chocolate that he could taste drove him crazy.  
At the sound of the door opening, Sirius sprung backwards, and lifted his eyes to look at none other than James Potter.  
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”  
“James…I...It’s not what it…shit…” Sirius got out, trying to push away the girl who was trying to kiss him again.  
James stared at his friend for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before he stepped forward and gently took his drunken sister’s hands, pulling her away from the marauder infamous for sleeping around.  
“I…I wasn’t trying to take advantage of her, mate, I swear! She came onto me, and then we just…”  
“She came onto you? She’s drunk! She doesn’t know what she’s doing!” James shook his head, and shoved his friend to get off of his bed.  
“She kissed me! And I got caught up in the moment! I’m just-“  
“Randy as hell and desperate? Yeah, I can see that. I know you haven’t had a meet up with one of your slags in a few days,” James bit out, glaring at his best friend.  
“But that doesn’t mean you can snog my sister when she’s drunk.” The bespectacled boy pinched the bridge of his nose in fristration, and gently pushed his sister back onto the bed when she tried to stand.  
“Look, my sister’s love life is none of my business. If she wants to kiss you when she’s sober, then fine. But I sure as hell won’t let you snog her when she doesn’t’ know what the hell she’s doing.” He shook his head and turned away from his friend, helping his sister under the covers.  
“Go have a wank, or something. But leave my sister alone.”  
A/N Hmm. Thoughts? I wanted to break the fanfiction stereotype that all first kisses between people are perfect, because they’re totally not. Thanks for your patience! I’m off for two weeks so I’ll hopefully have time for a few more updates!


	28. Chapter 28

A/N Sorry for the wait again! I had a day off and decided to write this wee chapter. Exams are coming up, I probably won’t update again until break, but I’ll make it a good one when I do :) Enjoy x  
As a child growing up in a very conservative neighbourhood, Hermione’s neighbours had always told her that alcohol was the devil’s juice and that she should be a good girl and stay away from it. Hermione had never been one of those teenagers that liked to party and get drunk – that had been Lavender, and Parvarti – so she had assured the couple that she would never touch the stuff, though had never believed that it could be so bad. But after waking up with a splitting headache the morning after Marlene’s party, she was close to believing them.  
Hermione couldn’t help the small groan that escaped her lips as she slowly became aware of her surroundings. The strong smell of fire-whiskey and aftershave – James was still convinced lathering it on himself would land him girlfriend – and the sound of deep murmurs across the room told her that she was indeed in her brother’s bed, and not in her own dorm like she was supposed to be.  
Ever so slowly, some of the past nights events came back to her – Lily bringing her back to the party, sitting between James and Sirius in a circle of her peers, participating in a drinking game of Sirius’ invention – every time Lily called James ‘Potter’, one shot, every time she blushed while talking to him, two shots – but soon after that, Hermione’s memory failed her, and instead she pressed her hands to her temples, stifling another groan.  
Moments after her groan, the curtains around her four poster were ripped open, and the mid-morning sun flashed across her face, causing Hermione to wince and press her hands over her eyes.  
Devils juice indeed.  
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty! How’re you feeling?” James’ voice was intentionally loud as he leaned over her, and the smirk on his face couldn’t be missed. Caring brother, he was, but he never missed out on a chance to tease her, as any brother would his sister.  
“I’m never going to drink again…” Hermione mumbled pressed her hands to her ears to try and block out the sound of his voice.  
James snorted and gestured over his shoulder towards the door. “Moony said the exact same thing when he woke up – he’s been in the bathroom for ten minutes, puking his guts out. He’s yet to notice the drawings on his face, though,”  
“Please tell me you didn’t draw anything inappropriate on his face,” Hermione said, giving her brother a disappointed frown as she slowly sat up, leaning her head against the head board of her brother’s bed. She could tell from the way his smirk widened that what he was about to say was going to shock her.  
“I only drew a few dicks. You were the one to decide that we hadn’t drawn enough, and added your own touches,”  
“I did what?!”  
James grinned at his sister’s reaction, and patted her hand to reassure her.  
“Don’t worry, ‘Mione. You only drew a few things, and nobody could tell what on earth they were. You’re almost as bad at drawing as you are at singing,” He said, his voice taking on a teasing tone.  
Hermione groaned and pressed her hands to her face in complete and utter embarrassment.  
“I don’t remember doing that…”  
“Common side-effect of drinking,” James shrugged his shoulders, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him it was you, if you don’t tell him I also took part…”  
As Hermione gave another embarrassed sigh, James finally let out the laugh he had been holding in and patted his sister’s shoulder. “I’m only joking, ‘Mione. We didn’t let you get anywhere near his face with the marker – we were afraid you’d poke his eye out or something, in your state. We left the drawing to the big kids,” Again, his voice took on a teasing tone, and Hermione chose to ignore him, covering her head with a pillow.  
“James….please, not so loud,”  
“Don’t you want to know last night’s juicy events?” James raised an eyebrow and perched on the side of the bed.  
“That depends. By juicy events do you mean embarrassing things I did?”  
She didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning.  
“At least tell me that I didn’t streak, or anything like that…please say I wasn’t that stupid…”  
“You weren’t that stupid,” James assured her with a small laugh.  
“How stupid, then?”  
“Well….”  
James gave a heaving sigh as his sister yet again turned up the radio to full volume – he knew it was her, because she was the only one in the room who dared to ever touch his things, other than Sirius of course, who was currently positioned beside him as the two drew silly pictures on Remus’ face.  
“I love this song!” Hermione cried loudly, tugging on Lily’s arm as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet excitedly. “Come on! It’s my favourite, we’ve got to dance to it!”  
Hermione had, in fact, already declared almost all of the Weird Sister’s songs as her favourite that night, and James was finding it extremely amusing. It was even funnier to watch her drag Lily – or Marlene – to the middle of the 6th year Boys’ Dormitory and dance with them.   
“You’re a very happy drunk, I’ll give you that,” James said with a small laugh,  
“Well, at least I didn’t throw up everywhere,” Hermione grumbled. “I didn’t, right?”  
James laughed again and shook his head, to which Hermione gave a relieved sigh, rubbing her eyes.  
“What were the ‘juicy events’ then?” She asked after a minute, wincing already at the news that was about to come.  
“Every time a Weird Sister’s song came on, you dragged someone to the middle of the dorm and did some very er….interesting dance moves,” James said for a start, to which Hermione gave a heaving sigh and scrunched her nose.  
“You proclaimed every song as your favourite…told everyone that you loved them….said ‘This is the best night of my life!’ too many times for me to count,” James’ high pitched ‘feminine’ voice was usually enough to make Hermione laugh, but this time all she did was groan and bury her face in her hands.  
“You started singing something about taking your clothes off and dancing in the rain when Sirius told you that you were secretly living ‘La Vida Loca’…and I think you told Frank that he and Alice were going to have a child, which by the way, really freaked him out, because he and Alice haven’t even done the dirty yet,”  
As Hermione gave an embarrassed sigh and rubbed her forehead, James couldn’t help but laugh at his memory of the nights events – his sister was a lightweight, and he couldn’t wait to see what other crazy things she had hidden beneath all that bushy hair and her swotty attitude.  
“Anything else?” Hermione asked after a minute, practically preying to merlin that she hadn’t done anything worse than what he’d already told her.  
“Just a couple others that I’m saving to use for blackmail,” James told her in a teasing tone, to which he received a glare and a thump on the arm.  
“Kidding, kidding!” James snorted, though after a moment he sobered visibly. “But…you should probably talk to Sirius.”  
“Why? Don’t tell me he’s got a list of other embarrassing things I did?”  
“Well, I wouldn’t put it past him to have a book filled with things all of us have done to use as blackmail, but…well, to put it quite frankly…you two got erm…close last night,”  
“What do you mean…close?”  
“Close, as in, I came back in here to find the two of you swapping spit,”  
“We were what?!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After James had broken the news to Hermione that she and Sirius had been ‘swapping spit’, as he had called it, he had again suggested to Hermione that she should speak to Sirius about it – that she needed to talk to him about it. As it seemed, only he knew the full story, for Hermione had no recollection of ever…well, swapping spit with Sirius Black.  
The very idea was crazy, was it not? She - Hermione Granger, kissing Sirius Black - infamous womanizer and one of her best friends? James had to be making it all up for a laugh. A silly prank to get Hermione back for all the embarrassing things she had done in front of his friends the night before?  
As unlikely as it was that James would lie to her about a thing like this, Hermione was convinced that he was lying. It just didn’t make sense to her – why would anyone, let alone Sirius Black, kiss Hermione – especially severely intoxicated, wearing pyjamas and smelling like fire-whiskey Hermione – when they could get anyone they wanted? Bitterly, Hermione thought of the Ravenclaws Sirius liked to surround himself with. Usually, Hermione cared not about her looks, but as she thought back, she realised that she was perfectly plain compared to those –  
“Hermione?”  
There it was. That voice. The voice that somehow always managed to soothe and excite Hermione at the same time. Somehow, every time her name was spoken by the voice, butterflies erupted in her stomach. This time was no exception. But, unfortunately, that voice was not one she wanted to hear at that moment. She had been avoiding Sirius all day, and wasn’t about to stop now. She needed time to think.  
Hermione muttered a curse word under her breath and turned on the spot abruptly, trying to walk in the opposite direction from where she had been heading. But of course, Sirius caught up easily, reaching out to grab her arm and pull the brunette to a stop around the corner, away from the sea of people.  
“You’ve been avoiding me,”  
“No I haven’t,” Hermione spoke to quickly, and though she managed to keep the lie from showing on her face, the way she spewed the words out were enough to tell Sirius she was telling a tall story.  
“Liar. I know you have been.”  
Silence. Again, this confirmed Sirius’ accusations.  
“You sat with Evans at lunch. That’s a first,”  
“I felt like a change,” Hermione tried to shrug it off.  
“Right. Usually, when not completely off your face drunk, you and Evans fight like cats and dogs.”  
“Maybe I was sick of being surrounded by a sea of testosterone!”  
“Calm down, Kitty-cat,”  
Hermione gave an annoyed groan and put her hands on her hips. “What do you want, Sirius?”  
Though Sirius made it out like he had been looking for her all day, he too, had been avoiding their resident Kitty cat. At least until an hour ago. As soon as he had woken, he had left their dorm to hide from her, and ashamedly, after lunch had tried to get rid of both his frustration and the memory of last night with a cute 5th year Ravenclaw. Though, only minutes after she had thrown herself at him, Sirius had had an odd experience. He had forgotten whom he was actually kissing…and had called her Hermione.  
This had, of course, upset the girl, and Sirius had felt immeasurable guilt for hurting her feelings. It had taken a while to cheer her up, but, Sirius didn’t have all that charm for nothing – after calming the girl – Margret – down, Sirius had assured her that he would owl her, before leaving to be alone with his thoughts.  
There was something he had to sort out. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since the previous night – because she had kissed him. She had kissed him. Yes, maybe it had been drunken, and sloppy, but Sirius still had to know – did she do it because she was drunk and he was the only person in the room? Or did she…like him?  
“Something happened last night that I think we should talk about” He said slowly.  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hermione muttered, crossing her arms with a sigh.  
“We’ve got to talk about it at some point, kitten,”  
“Can’t we just forget about it and pretend it never happened? I’d really rather not talk about it…”  
“I’d really like to know why you kissed me,”  
“Wait, wait, wait a second – I kissed you?”  
Sirius blinked a few times. “….Yes? I mean, well, we were both sort of leaning in but you...you don’t remember?”  
“I don’t remember half of last night, Sirius.” Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples.  
“Let me get this straight – I kissed you first? You’re positive you haven’t got it mixed up? We were both drunk, so maybe...”  
“I, unlike you, can hold my liquor,” Sirius said absently, gently picking a stray hair off of Hermione’s shoulder.  
“We were sort of like we are now,” He told her after a moment of silence, taking a small step closer to her.  
As always, when they were that close, Hermione felt a tingling feeling in her belly.  
“I was doing your hair…we were sitting really close….and then you came at me so fast that you banged our teeth together,”  
Hermione felt her cheeks burn, and hoped she didn’t resemble a tomato. “I- I did?”  
“It hurt, too,” Sirius laughed. “But, you know what happened after that.”  
Silence from both sides.  
“I was…well, I was coming to ask you why you kissed me, but I guess you don’t remember so there’s no point in asking now,” Sirius said after a minute.  
“Yeah,” Hermione gave an awkward laugh.  
“I mean, as long as you don’t have a crush on me or anything…”  
“Me, a crush on you?” Hermione laughed, though felt her chest tighten. Sirius laughed as well, running a hand through his hair.  
“No way! For all I know, it could be you who has the crush on me! You did kiss me back, you know,” Hermione voice took on a teasing tone, though, there was a hint of something else in her voice. Hope, perhaps?  
“Pssh, no,” Sirius avoided her gaze, and the two laughed again.  
The laughter died down, and Sirius cleared his throat after a minute.  
“I guess we were just…two drunk kids, living in the moment, then”  
“Yeah…” Hermione fiddled with her hands.  
Silence.  
“I guess we should head to dinner then, yeah?”  
“I’ll see you down there,” Hermione gave a tight smile. “I need to check on something first,”  
“Alright, kitty-cat.” Sirius awkwardly saluted his friend, before turning and following the crowd towards the great hall.  
Hermione turned towards the nearest bathroom, and made a beeline for the nearest cubicle, locking the door, before perching on top of the lid. It was there, minutes later, where she sat, wiping at her eyes and sniffling miserably, where she realised that she did, indeed, have feelings for Sirius Black. But she could never tell him. Because it could ruin everything.


End file.
